diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17086-8.txt | 16240 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17086-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 347888 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17086-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 359437 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17086-h/17086-h.htm | 16169 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17086.txt | 16240 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17086.zip | bin | 0 -> 347783 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
9 files changed, 48665 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17086-8.txt b/17086-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f17e7e --- /dev/null +++ b/17086-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16240 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax +by Harriet Parr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax + +Author: Harriet Parr + (AKA Holme Lee) + +Release Date: November 17, 2005 [EBook #17086] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + +THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX. + + +A NOVEL. + +BY + +HOLME LEE + +(MISS HARRIET PARR), + +AUTHOR OF "SYLVAN HOLT'S DAUGHTER," "KATHIE BRAND," ETC. + + +"Not what we could wish, but what we must even put up with." + + +PHILADELPHIA: + +PORTER & COATES. + + + + +CONTENTS. + +CHAP. PAGE + +I. HER BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 5 +II. THE LAWYER'S LETTER 10 +III. THE COMMUNITY OF BEECHHURST 15 +IV. A RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR 29 +V. GREAT-ASH FORD 37 +VI. AGAINST HER INCLINATION 46 +VII. HER FATE IS SEALED 59 +VIII. BESSIE'S FRIENDS AT BROOK 65 +IX. FAREWELL TO THE FOREST 77 +X. BESSIE GOES INTO EXILE 80 +XI. SCHOOL-DAYS AT CAEN 89 +XII. IN COURSE OF TIME 98 +XIII. BESSIE LEARNS A FAMILY SECRET 112 +XIV. ON BOARD THE "FOAM" 117 +XV. A LITTLE CHAPTER BY THE WAY 124 +XVI. A LOST OPPORTUNITY 127 +XVII. BESSIE'S BRINGING HOME 135 +XVIII. THE NEXT MORNING 145 +XIX. NEIGHBORS TO ABBOTSMEAD 152 +XX. PAST AND PRESENT 160 +XXI. A DISCOVERY 170 +XXII. PRELIMINARIES 177 +XXIII. BESSIE SHOWS CHARACTER 188 +XXIV. A QUIET POLICY 194 +XXV. A DINNER AT BRENTWOOD 198 +XXVI. A MORNING AT BRENTWOOD 209 +XXVII. SOME DOUBTS AND FEARS 216 +XXVIII. IN MINSTER COURT 223 +XXIX. LADY LATIMER IN WOLDSHIRE 228 +XXX. MY LADY REVISITS OLD SCENES 235 +XXXI. A SUCCESS AND A REPULSE 241 +XXXII. A HARD STRUGGLE 254 +XXXIII. A VISIT TO CASTLEMOUNT 256 +XXXIV. BESSIE'S PEACEMAKING 266 +XXXV. ABBOTSMEAD IN SHADOW 273 +XXXVI. DIPLOMATIC 282 +XXXVII. SUNDAY MORNING AT BEECHHURST 285 +XXXVIII. SUNDAY EVENING AT BROOK 294 +XXXIX. AT FAIRFIELD 305 +XL. ANOTHER RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR 311 +XLI. FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES 318 +XLII. HOW FRIENDS MAY FALL OUT 323 +XLIII. BETWEEN THEMSELVES 328 +XLIV. A LONG DULL DAY 336 +XLV. THE SQUIRE'S WILL 343 +XLVI. TENDER AND TRUE 349 +XLVII. GOODNESS PREVAILS 360 +XLVIII. CERTAIN OPINIONS 365 +XLIX. BESSIE'S LAST RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR 372 +L. FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 381 + + + + +THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +_HER BIRTH AND PARENTAGE._ + + +The years have come and gone at Beechhurst as elsewhere, but the results +of time and change seem to have almost passed it by. Every way out of +the scattered forest-town is still through beautiful forest-roads--roads +that cleave grand avenues, traverse black barren heaths, ford shallow +rivers, and climb over ferny knolls whence the sea is visible. The +church is unrestored, the parsonage is unimproved, the long low house +opposite is still the residence of Mr. Carnegie, the local doctor, and +looks this splendid summer morning precisely as it looked in the +splendid summer mornings long ago, when Bessie Fairfax was a little +girl, and lived there, and was very happy. + +Bessie was not akin to the doctor. Her birth and parentage were on this +wise. Her father was Geoffry, the third and youngest son of Mr. Fairfax +of Abbotsmead in Woldshire. Her mother was Elizabeth, only child of the +Reverend Thomas Bulmer, vicar of Kirkham. Their marriage was a +love-match, concluded when they had something less than the experience +of forty years between them. The gentleman had his university debts +besides to begin life with, the lady had nothing. As the shortest way to +a living he went into the Church, and the birth of their daughter was +contemporary with Geoffry's ordination. His father-in-law gave him a +title for orders, and a lodging under his roof, and Mr. Fairfax +grudgingly allowed his son two hundred a year for a maintenance. + +The young couple were lively and handsome. They had done a foolish +thing, but their friends agreed to condone their folly. Before very long +a south-country benefice, the rectory of Beechhurst, was put in +Geoffry's way, and he gayly removed with his wife and child to that +desirable home of their own. They were poor, but they were perfectly +contented. Nature is sometimes very kind in making up to people for the +want of fortune by an excellent gift of good spirits and good courage. +She was very kind in this way to Geoffry Fairfax and his wife Elizabeth; +so kind that everybody wondered with great amazement what possessed that +laughing, rosy woman to fall off in health, and die soon after the birth +of a second daughter, who died also, and was buried in the same grave +with her mother. + +The rector was a cheerful exemplification of the adage that man is not +made to live alone. He wore the willow just long enough for decency, and +then married again--married another pretty, portionless young woman of +no family worth mentioning. This reiterated indiscretion caused a breach +with his father, and the slender allowance that had been made him was +resumed. But his new wife was good to his little Bessie, and Abbotsmead +was a long way off. + +There were no children of this second marriage, which was lucky; for +three years after, the rector himself died, leaving his widow as +desolate as a clergyman's widow, totally unprovided for, can be. She had +never seen any member of her husband's family, and she made no claim on +Mr. Fairfax, who, for his part, acknowledged none. Bessie's near +kinsfolk on her mother's side were all departed this life; there was +nobody who wanted the child, or who would have regarded her in any light +but an incumbrance. The rector's widow therefore kept her unquestioned; +and being a woman of much sense and little pride, she moved no farther +from the rectory than to a cottage-lodging in the town, where she found +some teaching amongst the children of the small gentry, who then, as +now, were its main population. + +It was hard work for meagre reward, and perhaps she was not sorry to +exchange her mourning-weeds for bride-clothes again when Mr. Carnegie +asked her; for she was of a dependent, womanly character, and the doctor +was well-to-do and well respected, and ready with all his heart to give +little Bessie a home. The child was young enough when she lost her own +parents to lose all but a reflected memory of them, and cordially to +adopt for a real father and mother those who so cordially adopted her. + +Still, she was Bessie Fairfax, and as the doctor's house grew populous +with children of his own, Bessie was curtailed of her indulgences, her +learning, her leisure, and was taught betimes to make herself useful. +And she did it willingly. Her temper was loving and grateful, and Mrs. +Carnegie had her recompense in Bessie's unstinting helpfulness during +the period when her own family was increasing year by year; sometimes at +the rate of one little stranger, and sometimes at the rate of twins. The +doctor received his blessings with a welcome, and a brisk assurance to +his wife that the more they were the merrier. And neither Mrs. Carnegie +nor Bessie presumed to think otherwise; though seven tiny trots under +ten years old were a sore handful; and seven was the number Bessie kept +watch and ward over like a fairy godmother in the doctor's nursery, when +her own life had attained to no more than the discretion and philosophy +of fifteen. The chief of them were boys--boys on the plan of their +worthy father; five boys with excellent lungs and indefatigable stout +legs; and two little girls no whit behind their brothers for voluble +chatter and restless agility. Nobody complained, however. They had their +health--that was one mercy; there was enough in the domestic exchequer +to feed, clothe, and keep them all warm--that was another mercy; and as +for the future, people so busy as the doctor and his wife are forced to +leave that to Providence--which is the greatest mercy of all. For it is +to-morrow's burden breaks the back, never the burden of to-day. + +A constant regret with Mrs. Carnegie (when she had a spare moment to +think of it) was her inability, from stress of annually recurring +circumstances, to afford Bessie Fairfax more of an education, and +especially that she was not learning to speak French and play on the +piano. But Bessie felt no want of these polite accomplishments. She had +no accomplished companions to put her to shame for her deficiencies. She +was fond of a book, she could write an unformed, legible hand, and add +up a simple sum. The doctor, not a bad judge, called her a shrewd, +reasonable little lass. She had mother-wit, a warm heart, and a nice +face, as sweet and fresh as a bunch of roses with the dew on them, and +he did not see what she wanted with talking French and playing the +piano; if his wife would believe him, she would go through life quite as +creditably and comfortably without any fashionable foreign airs and +graces. Thus it resulted, partly from want of opportunity, and partly +from want of ambition in herself, that Bessie Fairfax remained a rustic +little maid, without the least tincture of modern accomplishments. +Still, the doctor's wife did not forget that her dear drudge and helpful +right hand was a waif of old gentry, whose restoration the chapter of +accidents might bring about any day. Nor did she suffer Bessie to forget +it, though Bessie was mighty indifferent, and cared as little for her +gentle kindred as they cared for her. And if these gentle kindred had +increased and multiplied according to the common lot, Bessie would +probably never have been remembered by them to any purpose; she might +have married as Mr. Carnegie's daughter, and have led an obscure, happy +life, without vicissitude to the end of it, and have died leaving no +story to tell. + +But many things had happened at Abbotsmead since the love-match of +Geoffry Fairfax and Elizabeth Bulmer. When Geoffry married, his brothers +were both single men. The elder, Frederick, took to himself soon after a +wife of rank and fortune; but there was no living issue of the marriage; +and the lady, after a few years of eccentricity, went abroad for her +health--that is, her husband was obliged to place her under restraint. +Her malady was pronounced incurable, though her life might be prolonged. +The second son, Laurence, had distinguished himself at Oxford, and had +become a knight-errant of the Society of Antiquaries. His father said he +would traverse a continent to look at one old stone. He was hardly +persuaded to relinquish his liberty and choose a wife, when the failure +of heirs to Frederick disconcerted the squire's expectations, and, with +the proverbial ill-luck of learned men, he chose badly. His wife, from a +silly, pretty shrew, matured into a most bitter scold; and a blessed man +was he, when, after three years of tribulation, her temper and a strong +fever carried her off. His Xantippe left no child. Mr. Fairfax urged the +obligations of ancient blood, old estate, and a second marriage; but +Laurence had suffered conjugal felicity enough, and would no more of it. +It was now that the squire first bethought himself seriously of his son +Geoffry's daughter. He proposed to bring her home to Abbotsmead, and to +marry her in due time to some poor young gentleman of good family, who +would take her name, and give the house of Fairfax a new lease, as had +been done thrice before in its long descent, by means of an heiress. The +poor young man who might be so obliging was even named. Frederick and +Laurence gave consent to whatever promised to mitigate their father's +disappointment in themselves, and the business was put into the hands of +their man of law, John Short of Norminster, than whom no man in that +venerable city was more respected for sagacity and integrity. + +If Mr. Fairfax had listened to John Short in times past, he would not +have needed his help now. John Short had urged the propriety of +recalling Bessie from Beechhurst when her father died; but no good +grandmother or wise aunt survived at Kirkham to insist upon it, and the +thing was not done. The man of law did not, however, revert to what was +past remedy, but gave his mind to considering how his client might be +extricated from his existing dilemma with least pain and offence. Mr. +Fairfax had a legal right to the custody of his young kinswoman, but he +had not the conscience to plead his legal right against the long-allowed +use and custom of her friends. If they were reluctant to let her go, and +she were reluctant to come, what then? John Short confessed that Mr. +Carnegie and Bessie herself might give them trouble if they were so +disposed; but he had a reasonable expectation that they would view the +matter through the medium of common sense. + +Thus much by way of prelude to the story of Bessie Fairfax's +Vicissitudes, which date from this momentous era of her life. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_THE LAWYER'S LETTER._ + + +"The postman! Run, Jack, and bring the letter." + +_The letter_, said Mr. Carnegie; for the correspondence between the +doctor's house and the world outside it was limited. Jack jumped off his +chair at the breakfast-table and rushed to do his father's bidding. + +"For mother!" cried he, returning at the speed of a small whirlwind, the +epistle held aloft. Down he clapped it on the table by her plate, +mounted into his chair again, and resumed the interrupted business of +the hour. + +Mrs. Carnegie glanced aside at the letter, read the post-mark, and +reflected aloud: "Norminster--who can be writing to us from Norminster? +Some of Bessie's people?" + +"The shortest way would be to open the letter and see. Hand it over to +me," said the doctor. + +Bessie pricked her ears; but Mr. Carnegie read the letter to himself, +while his wife was busy replenishing the little mugs that came up in +single file incessantly for more milk. A momentary pause in the wants of +her offspring gave her leisure to notice her husband's visage--a +dusk-red and weather-brown visage at its best, but gathered now into +extraordinary blackness. She looked, but did not speak; the doctor was +the first to speak. + +"It is about Bessie--from her grandfather's agent," said he with +suppressed vexation as he replaced the large full sheet in its envelope. + +"What about _me_?" cried Bessie in an explosion of natural curiosity. + +"Your mother will tell you presently. Mind, boys, you are good to-day, +and don't tire your sister." + +So unusual an admonition made the boys stare, and everybody was hushed +with a presentiment of something going to happen that nobody would +approve. Mrs. Carnegie had her conjectures, not far wide of the truth, +and Bessie was conscious of impatience to get the children out of the +way, that she might have her curiosity appeased. + +The doctor discerned the insurrection of self in her face, and said, +almost bitterly, "Wait till I am gone, Bessie; you will have all the +rest of your life to think of it. Now, boys, you have done eating; be +off, and get ready for school." + +Jack and the rest cleared out of the parlor and pattered up stairs, +Bessie following close on their heels, purposely deaf to her mother's +voice: "You may stay, love." She was hurt and perturbed. An idea of what +was impending had flashed into her mind. After all, her abrupt exit was +convenient to her elders; they could discuss the circumstances more +freely in her absence. Mrs. Carnegie began. + +"Well, Thomas, what does this wonderful letter say? I think I can +guess--Bessie is to go home?" + +"Home! What place can be home to her if this is not?" rejoined the +doctor, and strode across the room to shut the door on his retreating +progeny, while his wife entered on the perusal of the letter. + +It was from Mr. John Short, on the business that we wot of. To Mr. +Carnegie it read like a cool intimation that Bessie Fairfax was +wanted--was become of importance at Abbotsmead, and must break with her +present associations. It would have been impossible to convey in +palatable words the requisition that the lawyer was put upon making; but +to Mrs. Carnegie the demand did not sound harsh, nor the manner of it +insolent. She had always kept her mind in a state of preparedness for +some such change, and the only sense of annoyance that smote her was for +her own shortcomings--for how she had suffered Bessie to be almost a +servant to her own children, and how she could neither speak French nor +play on the piano. + +The doctor pooh-poohed her remorse. "You have done the best for her you +could, Jane. What right has her grandfather to expect anything? He left +her on your hands without a penny." + +"Bessie has been worth more than she costs, if that were the way to look +at it. But she will have to leave us now; she will have to go." + +"Yes, she will have to go. But the old gentleman shall never deny our +share in her." + +"The future will rest with Bessie herself." + +"And she has a good heart and a will of her own. She will be a woman +with brains, whether she can play on the piano or not. Don't fret +yourself, Jane, for any fancied neglect of Bessie." + +"I am sadly grieved for her, Thomas; she will be sent to school, and +what a life she will lead, dear child, so backward in her learning!" + +"Nonsense! She is a bit of very good company. Wherever Bessie goes she +will hold her own. She has plenty of character, and, take my word for +it, character tells more in the long-run than talking French. There is +the gig at the gate, and I must be off, though Bessie was starting for +Woldshire by the next post. The letter is not one to be answered on the +spur of the moment; acknowledge it, and say that it shall be answered +shortly." + +With a comfortable kiss the doctor bade his wife good-bye for the day, +admonishing her not to fall a-crying with Bessie over what could not be +remedied. And so he left her with the tears in her eyes already. She sat +a few minutes feeling rather than reflecting, then with the lawyer's +letter in her hands went up stairs, calling softly as she went, "Bessie +dear, where are you?" + +"Here, mother, in my own room;" and Bessie appeared in the doorway +handling a scarlet feather-brush with which she was accustomed to dust +her small property in books and ornaments each morning after the +housemaid had performed her heavier task. + +Mrs. Carnegie entered with her, and shut the door; for the two-leaved +lattice was wide open, and the muslin curtains were blowing half across +the tiny triangular nook under the thatch, which had been Bessie +Fairfax's "own room" ever since she came to live in the doctor's house. +Bessie was very fond of it, very proud of keeping it neat. There were +assembled all the personal memorials of no moneysworth that had been +rescued from the rectory-sale after her father's death; two miniatures, +not valuable as works of art, but precious as likenesses of her parents; +a faint sketch in water-colors of Kirkham Church and Parsonage House, +and another sketch of Abbotsmead; an Indian work-box, a China bowl, two +jars and a dish, very antiquated, and diffusing a soft perfume of +roses; and about a hundred and fifty volumes of books, selected by his +widow from the rectory library, for their binding rather than their +contents, and perhaps not very suitable for a girl's collection. But +Bessie set great store by them; and though the ancient Fathers of the +Church accumulated dust on their upper shelves, and the sages of Greece +and Rome were truly sealed books to her, she could have given a fair +account of her Shakespeare and of the Aldine Poets to a judicious +catechist, and of many another book with a story besides; even of her +Hume, Gibbon, Goldsmith, and Rollin, and of her Scott, perennially +delightful. She was, in fact, no dunce, though she had not been +disciplined in the conventional routine of education; and as for +training in the higher sense, she could not have grown into a more +upright or good girl under any guidance, than under that of her tender +and careful mother. + +And in appearance what was she like, this Bessie Fairfax, subjected so +early to the caprices of fortune? It is not to be pretended that she +reached the heroic standard. Mr. Carnegie said she bade fair to be very +handsome, but she was at the angular age when the framework of a girl's +bones might stand almost as well for a boy's, and there was, indeed, +something brusque, frank, and boyish in Bessie's air and aspect at this +date. She walked well, danced well, rode well--looked to the manner born +when mounted on the little bay mare, which carried the doctor on his +second journeys of a day, and occasionally carried Bessie in his company +when he was going on a round, where, at certain points, rest and +refreshment were to be had for man and beast. Her figure had not the +promise of majestic height, but it was perfectly proportioned, and her +face was a capital letter of introduction. Feature by feature, it was, +perhaps, not classical, but never was a girl nicer looking taken +altogether; the firm sweetness of her mouth, the clear candor of her +blue eyes, the fair breadth of her forehead, from which her light +golden-threaded hair stood off in a wavy halo, and the downy peach of +her round cheeks made up a most kissable, agreeable face. And there were +sense and courage in it as well as sweetness; qualities which in her +peculiar circumstances would not be liable to rust for want of using. + +The mistiness of tears clouded Bessie's eyes when her mother, without +preamble, announced the purport of the letter in her hand. + +"It has come at last, Bessie, the recall that I have kept you in mind +was sure to come sooner or later; not that we shall be any the less +grieved to lose you, dear. Father will miss his clever little Bessie +sadly,"--here the kind mother paused for emotion, and Bessie, athirst to +know all, asked if she might read the letter. + +The letter was not written for her reading, and Mrs. Carnegie hesitated; +but Bessie's promptitude overruled her doubt in a manner not unusual +with them. She took possession of the document, and sat down in the deep +window-seat to study it; and she had read but a little way when there +appeared signs in her face that it did not please her. Her mother knew +these signs well; the stubborn set of the lips, the resolute depression +of the level brows, much darker than her hair, the angry sparkle of her +eyes, which never did sparkle but when her temper was ready to flash out +in impetuous speech. Mrs. Carnegie spoke to forewarn her against rash +declarations. + +"It is of no use to say you _won't_, Bessie, for you _must_. Your father +said, before he went out, that we have no choice but to let you go." + +Bessie did not condescend to any rejoinder yet. She was reading over +again some passage of the letter by which she felt herself peculiarly +affronted. She continued to the end of it, and it was perhaps lucky that +her tenderness had then so far prevailed over her wrath that she could +only give way to tears of self-pity, instead of voice to the defiant +words that had trembled on her tongue a minute ago. + +"I did hope, dear, that you would not take it so much to heart," said +her mother, comforting her. "But it is mortifying to think of being sent +to school. What a pity we have let time go on till you are fifteen, and +can neither speak a word of French nor play a note on the piano!" + +Bessie had so often heard Mr. Carnegie's opinion of these +accomplishments that her mother's regrets wore a comic aspect to her +mind, and between laughing and crying she protested that she did not +care, she should not try to improve to please _them_--meaning her +Woldshire kinsfolk mentioned in the lawyer's letter. + +"You have good common-sense, Bessie, and I am sure you will use it," +said her mother with persuasive gravity. "If you show off with your +tempers, that will give a color to their notion that you have been badly +brought up. You must do us and yourself what credit you can, going +amongst strangers. I am not afraid for you, unless you set up your +little back, and determine to be downright naughty and perverse." + +Bessie's countenance was not promising as she gave ear to these +premonitions. Her upper lip was short, and her nether lip pressed +against it with a scorny indignation. Her back was very much up, indeed, +in the moral sense indicated by her mother, and as these inauspicious +moods of hers were apt to last the longer the longer they were reasoned +with, her mother prudently refrained from further disquisition. She bade +her go about her ordinary business as if nothing had happened, and +Bessie did go about these duties with a quiet practical obedience to law +and order which bore out the testimony to her good common-sense. She +thought of Mr. John Short's letter, it is true, and once she stood for a +minute considering the sketch of Abbotsmead which hung above her chest +of drawers. "Gloomy dull old place," was her criticism on it; but even +as she looked, there ensued the reflection that the sun _must_ shine +upon it sometimes, though the artist had drawn it as destitute of light +and shade as the famous portrait of Queen Elizabeth, when she wished to +be painted fair, and was painted merely insipid. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_THE COMMUNITY OF BEECHHURST._ + + +The lawyer's letter from Norminster had thrust aside all minor +interests. Even the school-feast that was to be at the rectory that +afternoon was forgotten, until the boys reminded their mother of it at +dinner-time. "Bessie will take you," said Mrs. Carnegie, and Bessie +acquiesced. The one thing she found impossible to-day was to sit still. +We will go to the school-feast with the children. The opportunity will +be good for introducing to the reader a few persons of chief +consideration in the rural community where Bessie Fairfax acquired some +of her permanent views of life. + +Beechhurst Rectory was the most charming rectory-house on the Forest. It +would be delightful to add that the rector was as charming as his abode; +but Beechhurst did not call itself happy in its pastor at this +moment--the Rev. Askew Wiley. Mr. Wiley's immediate predecessor--the +Rev. John Hutton--had been a pattern for country parsons. Hale, hearty, +honest as the daylight; knowing in sport, in farming, in gardening; bred +at Westminster and Oxford; the third son of a family distinguished in +the Church; happily married, having sons of his own, and sufficient +private fortune to make life easy both in the present and the future. +Unluckily for Beechhurst, he preferred the north to the south country, +and, after holding the benefice a little over one year, he exchanged it +against Otterburn, a moorland border parish of Cumberland, whence Mr. +Wiley had for some time past been making strenuous efforts to escape. +Both were crown livings, but Otterburn stood for twice as much in the +king's books as Beechhurst. Mr. Wiley was, however, willing to pay the +forfeiture of half his income to get away from it. He had failed to make +friends with the farmers, his principal parishioners, and the vulgar +squabbles of Otterburn had grown into such a notorious scandal that the +bishop was only too thankful to promote his removal. Mrs. Wiley's health +was the ostensible reason, and though Otterburn knew better, Beechhurst +accepted it in good faith, and gave its new rector a cordial +welcome--none the less cordial that his wife came on the scene a robust +and capable woman, ready and fit for parish work, and with no air of the +fragile invalid it had been led to expect. + +But men are shrewd on the Forest as on the Border, and the Rev. Askew +Wiley was soon at a discount. His appearance was eminently clerical, but +no two of his congregation formed the same opinion of what he was +besides, unless the opinion that they did not like him. It was a clear +case of Dr. Fell; for there was nothing in his life to except to, and +in his character only a deficiency of courage. _Only?_ But +stay--consider what a crop of servile faults spring from a deficiency of +courage. + +"He do so beat the devil about the bush that there is no knowing where +to have him," was the dictum early enunciated by a village Solomon, +which went on to be verified more and more, until the new rector was as +much despised on the Forest as on the Border. But he had a different +race to deal with. At Otterburn the rude statesmen provoked and defied +him with loud contempt; at Beechhurst his congregation dwindled down to +the gentlefolks, who tolerated him out of respect to his office, and to +the aged poor, who received a weekly dole of bread, bequeathed by some +long-ago benefactor; and these were mostly women. Mr. Carnegie was a +fair sample of the men, and he made no secret of his aversion. + +The Reverend Askew Wiley, see him as he paces the lawn, his supple back +writhed just a little towards my lady deferentially, his head just a +little on one side, lending her an ear. By the gait of him he is looking +another way. Yes; for now my lady turns, he turns too, and they halt +front to front; his pallid visage half averted from her observation, his +glittering eyes roving with bold stealth over the populous garden, and +his thin-lipped, scarlet mouth working and twisting incessantly in the +covert of his thick-set beard. + +My lady speaks with an impatience scarcely controlled. She is the great +lady of Beechhurst, the Dowager Lady Latimer, in the local estimation a +very great lady indeed; once a leader in society, now retired from it, +and living obscurely on her rich dower in the Forest, with almsdeeds and +works of patronage and improvement for her pleasure and her occupation. +My lady always loved her own way, but she had worked harmoniously with +Mr. Hutton through his year's incumbency. He was sufficient for his +duties, and gave her no opportunity for the exercise of unlawful +authority, no ground for encroachments, no room for interference. But it +was very different with poor Mr. Wiley. Everybody knew that he was a +trial to her. He could not hold his own against her propensity to +dictate. He deferred to her, and contrived to thwart her, to do the very +thing she would not have done, and to do it in the most obnoxious way. +The puzzle was--could he help it? Was he one of those tactless persons +who are for ever blundering, or had he the will to assert himself, and +not the pluck to do it boldly? His refuge was in round-about +manoeuvres, and my lady felt towards him as those intolerant +Cumberland statesmen felt before their enmity made the bleak moorland +too hot for him. He was called an able man, but his foibles were +precisely of the sort to create in the large-hearted of the gentle sex +an almost masculine antipathy to their spiritual pastor. Bessie Fairfax +could not bear him, and she could render a reason. Mr. Wiley received +pupils to read at his house, and he had refused to receive a dear +comrade of hers. It was his rule to receive none but the sons of +gentlemen. Young Musgrave was the son of a farmer on the Forest, who +called cousins with the young Carnegies. As the connection was wide, +perhaps the vigorous dislike of more important persons than Bessie +Fairfax is sufficiently accounted for. All the world is agreed that a +slight wound to men's self-love rankles much longer than a mortal +injury. + +It is not, however, to be supposed that the Beechhurst people spited +themselves so far as to keep away from the rector's school-treat because +they did not love the rector. (By the by, it was not his treat, but only +buns and tea by subscription distributed in his grounds, with the +privilege of admittance to the subscribers.) The orthodox gentility of +the neighborhood assembled in force for the occasion when the sun shone +upon it as it shone to-day, and the entertainment was an event for +children of all classes. If the richer sort did not care for buns, they +did for games; and the Carnegie boys were so eager to lose none of the +sport that they coaxed Bessie to take time by the forelock, and +presented themselves almost first on the scene. Mrs. Wiley, ready and +waiting out of doors to welcome her more distinguished guests, met a +trio of the little folks, in Bessie's charge, trotting round the end of +the house to reach the lawn. + +"Always in good time, Bessie Carnegie," said she. "But is not your +mother coming?" + +"No, thank you, Mrs. Wiley," said Bessie with prim decorum. + +"By the by, that is not your name. What is your name, Bessie?" + +"Elizabeth Fairfax." + +"Ah! yes; now I remember--Elizabeth Fairfax. And is your uncle pretty +well? I suppose we shall see him later in the day? He ought to look in +upon us before we break up. There! run away to the children in the +orchard, and leave the lawn clear." + +Bessie accepted her dismissal gladly, thankful to escape the +catechetical ordeal that would have ensued had there been leisure for +it. She was almost as shy of the rector's wife as of the rector. Mrs. +Wiley had a brusque, absent manner, and it was a trick of hers to expose +her young acquaintance to a fire of questions, of which she as regularly +forgot the answers. She had often affronted Bessie Fairfax by asking her +real name, and in the next breath calling her affably Bessie Carnegie, +the doctor's step-daughter, niece or other little kinswoman whom he kept +as a help in his house for charity's sake. + +Bessie had but faint recollections of the rectory as her home, for since +her father's death she had never gone there except as a visitor on +public days. But the tradition was always in her memory that once she +had lived in those pleasant rooms, had run up and down those broad sunny +stairs, and played on the spacious lawns of that mossy, tree-shadowed +garden. In the orchard had assembled, besides the children, a group of +their ex-teachers--Miss Semple and her sister, the village dressmakers, +Miss Genet, the daughter at the post-office, and the two Miss +Mittens--well-behaved and well-instructed young persons whom Mr. Wiley's +predecessors had been pleased to employ, but for whom Mrs. Wiley found +no encouragement. She had the ordering of the school, and preferred +gentlewomen for her lay-sisters. She had them, and only herself knew +what trouble in keeping them punctual to their duty and in keeping the +peace amongst them. There was dear fat Miss Buff, who had been right +hand in succession to Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Roebuck and Mr. Hutton, who +adored supremacy, and exercised it with the easy sway of long usage; she +felt herself pushed on one side by that ardent young Irish recruit, Miss +Thusy O'Flynn, whose peculiar temper no one cared to provoke, and who +ruled by the terror of it with a caprice that was trying in the last +degree. Miss Buff gave way to her, but not without grumbling, appealing, +and threatening to withdraw her services. But she loved her work in the +school and in the choir, and could not bear to punish herself or let +Miss Thusy triumph to the extent of driving her into private life; so +she adhered to her charge in the hope of better days, when she would +again be mistress paramount. And the same did Miss Wort--also one of the +old governing body--but from higher motives, which she was not afraid to +publish: she distrusted Mr. Wiley's doctrine, and she feared that he was +inclined to truckle to the taste for ecclesiastical decoration +manifested by certain lambs of his flock who doted on private +theatricals and saw no harm in balls. She adhered to her post, that the +truth might not suffer for want of a witness; and if the rising +generation of girls in preposterous hats had taken her for their pattern +of a laborious teacher, true to time as the school-bell itself, Mrs. +Wiley's preference for young ladies over young persons would have been +better justified, and Lady Latimer would not have been able to find +fault with the irregular attendance of the children, to express her +opinion that the school was not what it might be, and to throw out hints +that she must set about reforming it unless it soon reformed itself. + +Bessie Fairfax was on speaking terms with nearly everybody, and Miss +Mitten called her the moment she appeared to help in setting a ring for +"drop hankercher." Two of the little Carnegies merrily joined hands with +the rest, and they were just about to begin, Jack being unanimously +nominated as first chase for his dexterous running, when a shrill voice +called to them peremptorily to desist. + +"Why have you fallen out of rank? You ought to have kept your ranks +until you had sung grace before tea. Get into line again quickly, for +here come the buns;" and there was Miss Thusy O'Flynn, perched on a +mole-hill, in an attitude of command, waving her parasol and +demonstrating how they were to stand. + +"The buns, indeed! It is time, I'm sure," muttered Miss Buff, +substantial in purple silk and a black lace bonnet. Her rival was a +pretty, red-haired, resolute little girl, very prettily dressed, who +showed to no disadvantage on the mole-hill. But Miss Buff could see no +charm she had; she it was who had given leave for a game, to pass the +time before tea. The children had been an hour in the orchard, and the +feast was still delayed. + +"Perhaps the kettle does not boil," suggested Miss Wort, indulgently. + +"We are kept waiting for Miss O'Flynn's aunt," rejoined Miss Buff. "Here +she comes, with our angelical parson, and Lady Latimer, out in the cold, +walking behind them." + +Bessie Fairfax looked up. Lady Latimer was her supreme admiration. She +did not think that another lady so good, so gracious, so beautiful, +enriched the world. If there did, that lady was not the Viscountess +Poldoody. Bessie had a lively sense of fun, and the Irish dame was a +figure to call a smile to a more guarded face than hers--a short squab +figure that waddled, and was surmounted by a negative visage composed of +pulpy, formless features, and a brown wig of false curls--glaringly +false, for they were the first thing about her that fixed the eye, +though there were many matters besides to fascinate an observer with +leisure to look again. She seemed, however, a most free and cheerful old +lady, and talked in a loud, mellow voice, with a pleasant touch of the +brogue. She had been a popular Dublin singer and actress in her day--a +day some forty years ago--but only Lady Latimer and herself in the +rectory garden that afternoon were aware of the fact. + +Grand people possessed an irresistible attraction for Mr. Wiley. The +Viscountess Poldoody had taken a house in his parish for the fine +season, and came to his church with her niece; he had called upon her, +and now escorted her to the orchard with a fulsome assiduity which was +betrayed to those who followed by the uneasy writhing of his back and +shoulders. With many complimentary words he invited her to distribute +the prizes to the children. + +"If your ladyship will so honor them, it will be a day in their lives to +remember." + +"Give away the prizes? Oh yes, if ye'll show me which choild to give 'em +to," replied the viscountess with a good-humored readiness. Then, with +a propriety of feeling which was thought very nice in her, she added, in +the same natural, distinct manner, standing and looking round as she +spoke: + +"But is it not my Lady Latimer's right? What should I know of your +children, who am only a summer visitor?" + +Lady Latimer acknowledged the courteous disclaimer with that exquisite +smile which had been the magic of her loveliness always. The children +would appreciate the kindness of a stranger, she said; and with a +perfect grace yielded the precedence, and at the same time resigned the +opportunity she had always enjoyed before of giving the children a +monition once a year on their duty to God, their parents, their pastors +and masters, elders and betters, and neighbors in general. Whether my +lady felt aggrieved or not nobody could discern; but the people about +were aggrieved for her, and Miss Buff confided to a friend, in a +semi-audible whisper of intense exasperation, that the rector was the +biggest muff and toady that ever it had been her misfortune to know. +Miss Buff, it will be perceived, liked strong terms; but, as she justly +pleaded in extenuation of a taste for which she was reproached, what was +the use of there being strong terms in the language if they were not to +be applied on suitable occasions? + +The person, however, on whom this incident made the deepest impression +was Bessie Fairfax. Bessie admired Lady Latimer because she was +admirable. She had listened too often to Mr. Carnegie's radical talk to +have any reverence for rank and title unadorned; but her love of beauty +and goodness made her look up with enthusiastic respect to the one noble +lady she knew, of whom even the doctor spoke as "a great woman." The +children sang their grace and sat down to tea, and Lady Latimer stood +looking on, her countenance changed to a stern gravity; and Bessie, +quite diverted from the active business of the feast, stood looking at +her and feeling sorry. The child's long abstracted gaze ended by drawing +my lady's attention. She spoke to her, and Bessie started out of her +reverie, wide-awake in an instant. + +"Is there nothing for you to do, Bessie Fairfax, that you stand musing? +Bring me a chair into the shade of the old walnut tree over yonder. I +have something to say to you. Do you remember what we talked about that +wet morning last winter at my house?" + +"Yes, my lady," replied Bessie, and brought the chair with prompt +obedience. + +On the occasion alluded to Bessie had been caught in a heavy rain while +riding with the doctor. He had deposited her in Lady Latimer's kitchen, +to be dried and comforted by the housekeeper while he went on his +farther way; and my lady coming into the culinary quarter while Bessie +was there, had given her a delicious cheese-cake from a tin just hot out +of the oven, and had then entered into conversation with her about her +likes and dislikes, concluding with the remark that she had in her the +making of an excellent National School mistress, and ought to be trained +for that special walk in life. Bessie had carried home a report of what +Lady Latimer had said; but neither her father nor mother admired the +suggestion, and it had not been mentioned again. Now, however, being +comfortably seated, my lady revived it in a serious, methodical way, +Bessie standing before her listening and blushing with a confusion that +increased every moment. She was thinking of the letter from Norminster, +but she did not venture yet to arrest Lady Latimer's flow of advice. My +lady did not discern that anything was amiss. She was accustomed to have +her counsels heard with deference. From advice she passed into +exhortation, assuming that Bessie was, of course, destined to some sort +of work for a living--to dressmaking, teaching or service in some +shape--and encouraging her to make advances for her future, that it +might not overtake her unprepared. Lady Latimer had not come into the +Forest until some years after the Reverend Geoffry Fairfax's death, and +she had no knowledge of Bessie's birth, parentage and connections; but +she had a principle against poor women pining in the shadow of gentility +when they could help themselves by honest endeavors; and also, she had a +plan for raising the quality of National School teaching by introducing +into the ranks of the teachers young gentlewomen unprovided by fortune. +She advised no more than she would have done, and all she said was good, +if Bessie's circumstances had been what she assumed. But Bessie, +conscious that they were about to suffer a change, felt impelled at +last to set Lady Latimer right. Her shy face mitigated the effect of her +speech. + +"I have kindred in Woldshire, my lady, who want me. I am the only child +in this generation, and my grandfather Fairfax says that it is necessary +for me to go back to my own people." + +Lady Latimer's face suddenly reflected a tint of Bessie's. But no +after-thought was in Bessie's mind, her simplicity was genuine. She +esteemed it praise to be selected as a fit child to teach children; and, +besides, whatever my lady had said at this period would have sounded +right in Bessie's ears. When she had uttered her statement, she waited +till Lady Latimer spoke. + +"Do you belong to the Fairfaxes of Kirkham? Is your grandfather Richard +Fairfax of Abbotsmead?" she said in a quick voice, with an inflection of +surprise. + +"Yes, my lady. My father was Geoffry, the third son; my mother was +Elizabeth Bulmer." + +"I knew Abbotsmead many years ago. It will be a great change for you. +How old are you, Bessie? Fourteen, fifteen?" + +"Fifteen, my lady, last birthday, the fourth of March." + +Lady Latimer thought to herself, "Here is an exact little girl!" Then +she said aloud, "It would have been better for you if your grandfather +had recalled you when you were younger." + +Bessie was prepared to hear this style of remark, and to repudiate the +implication. She replied almost with warmth, "My lady, I have lost +nothing by being left here. Beechhurst will always be home to me. If I +had my choice I would not go to Kirkham." + +Lady Latimer thought again what a nice voice Bessie had, and regarded +her with a growing interest, that arose in part out of her own +recollections. She questioned her concerning her father's death, and the +circumstances of her adoption by Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie, and reflected +that, happily, she was too simple, too much of a child yet, for any but +family attachments--happily, because, though Bessie had no experience to +measure it by, there would be a wide difference between her position as +the doctor's adopted daughter amongst a house full of children, and as +heiress presumptive of Mr. Fairfax of Abbotsmead. + +"Have you ever seen Abbotsmead, Bessie?" she said. + +"No, my lady, I have never been in Woldshire since I was a baby. I was +born at Kirkham vicarage, my grandfather Bulmer's house, but I was not a +year old when we came away. I have a drawing of Abbotsmead that my +mother made--it is not beautiful." + +"But Abbotsmead is very beautiful--the country round about is not so +delicious as the Forest, for it has less variety: it is out of sight of +the sea, and the trees are not so grand, but Abbotsmead itself is a +lovely spot. The house stands on a peninsula formed by a little brawling +river, and in the park are the ruins that give the place its name. I +remember the garden at Abbotsmead as a garden where the sun always +shone." + +Bessie was much cheered. "How glad I am! In my picture the sun does not +shine at all. It is the color of a dark day in November." + +The concise simplicity of Bessie's talk pleased Lady Latimer. She +decided that Mrs. Carnegie must be a gentlewoman, and that Bessie had +qualities capable of taking a fine polish. She would have held the child +in conversation longer had not Mrs. Wiley come up, and after a word or +two about the success of the feast, bade Bessie run away and see that +her little brothers were not getting into mischief. Lady Latimer nodded +her a kind dismissal, and off she went. + +Six o'clock struck. By that time the buns were all eaten, the prizes +were all distributed, and the cream of the company had driven or walked +away, but cricket still went on in the meadow, and children's games in +the orchard. One or two gentlemen had come on the scene since the fervor +of the afternoon abated. Admiral Parkins, who governed Beechhurst under +Lady Latimer, was taking a walk round the garden with his brother +church-warden, Mr. Musgrave, and Mr. Carnegie had made his bow to the +rector's wife, who was not included in his aversion for the rector. Mr. +Phipps, also a gentleman of no great account in society, but a liberal +supporter of the parish charities, was there--a small, grotesque man to +look at, who had always an objection in his mouth. Was any one praised, +he mentioned a qualification; was any one blamed, he interposed a plea. +He had a character for making shrewd, incisive remarks, and was called +ironical, because he had a habit of dispersing flattering delusions and +wilful pretences by bringing the dry light of truth to bear upon them--a +gratuitous disagreeableness which was perhaps the reason why he was now +perched on a tree-stump alone, casting shy, bird-like glances hither and +thither--at two children quarrelling over a cracked tea-cup, at the +rector halting about uncomfortably amongst the "secondary people," at +his wife being instructed by Lady Latimer, at Lady Latimer herself, +tired but loath to go, at Bessie Fairfax, full of spirit and +forgetfulness, running at speed over the grass, a vociferous, noisy +troop of children after her. + +"Stop, stop, you are not to cross the lawn!" cried Mrs. Wiley. "Bessie +Carnegie, what a tomboy you are! We might be sure if there was any +roughness you were at the head of it." + +Lady Latimer also looked austere at the infringement of respect. Bessie +did not hear, and sped on till she reached the tree-stump where Mr. +Phipps was resting, and touched it--the game was "tiggy-touch-wood." +There she halted to take breath, her round cheeks flushed, her carnation +mouth open, and her pursuers baffled. + +"You are a pretty young lady!" said Mr. Phipps, not alluding to Bessie's +beauty, but to her manner sarcastically. Bessie paid no heed. They were +very good friends, and she cared nothing for his sharp observations. But +she perceived that the rout of children was being turned back to the +orchard, and made haste to follow them. + +Admiral Parkins and Mr. Musgrave had foregathered with Mr. Carnegie to +discuss some matters of parish finance. They drew near to Mr. Phipps and +took him into the debate. It was concerning a new organ for the church, +a proposed extension of the school-buildings, an addition to the +master's salary, and a change of master. The present man was +old-fashioned, and the spirit of educational reform had reached +Beechhurst. + +"If we wait until Wiley moves in the business, we may wait till +doomsday. The money will be forthcoming when it is shown that it is +wanted," said the admiral, whose heart was larger than his income. + +"Lady Latimer will not be to ask twice," said Mr. Musgrave. "Nor Mr. +Phipps." + +"We must invite her ladyship to take the lead," said Mr. Carnegie. + +"Let us begin by remembering that, as a poor community, we have no right +to perfection," said Mr. Phipps. "The voluntary taxes of the locality +are increasing too fast. It is a point of social honor for all to +subscribe to public improvements, and all are not gifted with a +superfluity of riches. If honor is to be rendered where honor is due, +let Miss Wort take the lead. Having regard to her means, she is by far +the most generous donor in Beechhurst." + +Mr. Phipps's proposal was felt to need no refutation. The widow's mite +is such a very old story--not at all applicable to the immense +operations of modern philanthropy. Besides, Miss Wort had no ambition +for the glory of a leader, nor had she the figure for the post. Mr. +Phipps was not speaking to be contradicted, only to be heard. + +Lady Latimer, on her way to depart, came near the place where the +gentlemen were grouped, and turned aside to join them, as if a sudden +thought had struck her. "You are discussing our plans?" she said. "A +certificated master to supersede poor old Rivett must be the first +consideration in our rearrangement of the schools. The children have +been sacrificed too long to his incompetence. We must be on the look-out +for a superior man, and make up our minds to pay him well." + +"Poor old Rivett! he has done good work in his day, but he has the fault +that overtakes all of us in time," said Mr. Phipps. "For the master of a +rural school like ours, I would choose just such another man--of rough +common-sense, born and bred in a cottage, and with an experimental +knowledge of the life of the boys he has to educate. Certificated if you +please, but the less conventionalized the better." + +Lady Latimer did not like Mr. Phipps--she thought there was something of +the spy in his nature. She gazed beyond him, and was peremptory about +her superior man--so peremptory that she had probably already fixed on +the fortunate individual who would enjoy her countenance. Half an hour +later, when Bessie Fairfax was carrying off her reluctant brothers to +supper and to bed, my lady had not said all she had to say. She was +still projecting, dissenting, deciding and undoing, and the gentlemen +were still listening with patient deference. She had made magnificent +offers of help for the furtherance of their schemes, and had received +warm acknowledgments. + +"Her ladyship is bountiful as usual--for a consideration," said Mr. +Phipps, emitting a long suppressed groan of weariness, when her gracious +good-evening released them. Mr. Phipps revolted against my lady's yoke, +the others wore it with grace. Admiral Parkins said Beechhurst would be +in a poor way without her. Mr. Musgrave looked at his watch, and avowed +the same opinion. Mr. Carnegie said nothing. He knew so much good of +Lady Latimer that he had an almost unlimited indulgence for her. It was +his disposition, indeed, to be indulgent to women, to give them all the +homage and sympathy they require. + +Mr. Phipps and Mr. Carnegie quitted the rectory-garden, and crossed the +road to the doctor's house in company. Bessie Fairfax, worn out with the +emotions and fatigues of the day, had left the children to their mother +and stout Irish nurse, and had collapsed into her father's great chair +in the parlor. She sprang up as the gentlemen entered, and was about to +run away, when Mr. Phipps spread out his arms to arrest her flight. + +"Well, Cinderella, the pumpkin-coach has not come yet to fetch you +away?" said he. The application of the parable of Cinderella to her case +was Mr. Phipps's favorite joke against Bessie Fairfax. + +"No, but it is on the road. I hear the roll of the wheels and the crack +of Raton's whip," said she with a prodigious sigh. + +"So it is, Phipps--that's true! We are going to lose our Bessie," said +Mr. Carnegie, drawing her upon his knee as he sat down. + +"Poor little tomboy! A nice name Mrs. Wiley has fitted her with! And she +is going to be a lady? I should not wonder if she liked it," said Mr. +Phipps. + +"As if ladies were not tomboys too!" said she with wise scorn, half +laughing, half pouting. Then with wistfulness: "Will it be so very +different? Why should it? I hate the idea of going away from +Beechhurst!" and she laid her cheek against the doctor's rough whisker +with the caressing, confiding affection that made her so inexpressibly +dear to him. + +"Here is my big baby," said he. "A little more, and she will persuade me +to say I won't part with her." + +Bessie flashed out impetuously: "Do say so! do say so! If you won't part +with me, I won't go. Who can make us?" + +Mrs. Carnegie came into the room, serious and reasonable. She had caught +Bessie's last words, and said: "If we were to let you have your own way +now, Bessie dear, ten to one that you would live to reproach us with not +having done our duty by you. My conscience is clear that we ought to +give you up. What is your opinion, Mr. Phipps?" + +"My opinion is, Mrs. Carnegie, that when the pumpkin-coach calls for +Cinderella, she will jump in, kiss her hand to all friends in the +Forest, and drive off to Woldshire in a delicious commotion of tearful +joy and impossible expectation." + +Bessie cried out vehemently against this. + +"There, there!" said the doctor, as if he were tired, "that is enough. +Let us proclaim a truce. I forbid the subject to be mentioned again +unless I mention it. And let my word be law." + +Mr. Carnegie's word, in that house, was law. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_A RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR._ + + +The next morning Mr. Carnegie was not in imperative haste to start on +his daily circuit. The boys had to give him an account of yesterday's +fun. He heard them comfortably, and rejoiced the heart of Bessie by +telling her to be ready to ride with him at ten o'clock--her mother +could spare her. Bessie was not to wait for when the hour came. These +rides with her father were ever her chief delight. She wore a round +beaver hat with a rosette in front, and a habit of dark blue serge. +(There had been some talk of a new one for her, but now her mother +reflected that it would not be wanted.) + +It was a delicate morning, the air was light and clear, the sky gray and +silvery. Bessie rode Miss Hoyden, the doctor's little mare, and trotted +along at a brisk pace by his stout cob Brownie. She had a sense of the +keenest enjoyment in active exercise. Mr. Carnegie looked aside at her +often, his dear little Bessie, thinking, but not speaking, of the +separation that impended. Bessie's pleasure in the present was enough to +throw that into the background. She did not analyze her sensations, but +her cheeks glowed, her eyes shone, and she knew that she was happy. They +were on their way to Littlemire, where Mr. Moxon lived--a poor clergyman +with whom young Musgrave was reading. Almost as soon as they were clear +of the village they struck into a green ride through the beeches, and +cut off a great angle of the high-road, coming out again on a furzy +opening dotted with old oaks, where the black pigs of the cottagers +would by and by feast and grow fat on their common rights. It was a +lovely, damp, perilous spot, haunted by the ghost of fever and ague. The +soft, vivid turf was oozy there, and the long-rooted stones were clothed +with wet, rusted moss. The few cottages of the hamlet wore deep hoods of +thatch, and stood amongst prosperous orchards; one of them, a little +larger than the rest, being the habitation of Mr. Moxon, the vicar of +Littlemire, whose church, dame-school, and income were all of the same +modest proportions as his dwelling. He had an invalid wife and no +attraction for resident pupils, but he was thankful when he could get +one living not too far off. Young Musgrave walked from Brook twice a +week--a long four miles--to read with him. + +The lad was in the vicar's parlor when Mr. Carnegie and Bessie Fairfax +stopped at the gate. He came out with flushed brow and ruffled hair to +keep Bessie company and hold the doctor's horse while he went up stairs +with Mr. Moxon to visit his wife. That room where she lay in pain often, +in weakness always, was a mean, poorly-furnished room, with a window in +the thatch, and just a glimpse of heaven beyond, but that glimpse was +all reflected in the blessedness of her peaceful face. Mr. Moxon's +threadbare coat hung loosely on his large lean frame, like the coat of a +poor, negligent gentleman, such as he was. He had the reputation of +being a capital scholar, but he had not made the way in the world that +had been expected of him. He was vicar of Littlemire when the Reverend +Geoffry Fairfax came into the Forest, and he was vicar of Littlemire +still, with no prospect of promotion. Perhaps he did not seek it. His +wife loved this buried nook, and he loved it for her sake. Mr. Carnegie +took it often in his rides, because they called him their friend and he +could help them. They had not many besides: Lady Latimer and Mr. Phipps +did not forget them, but they were quite out of the way of the visiting +part of the community. + +"You have done with Hampton, then, Harry?" Bessie said, waiting with her +comrade at the gate. + +"Yes, so far as school goes, except that I shall always have a kindness +for the old place and the old doctor. It was a grand thing, my winning +that scholarship, Bessie." + +"And now you will have your heart's desire--you will go to Oxford." + +"Yes; Moxon is an Oxford man, and the old doctor says out-and-out the +best classic of his acquaintance. You have not seen my prize-books yet. +When are you coming to Brook, Bessie?" + +"The first time I have a chance. What are the books, Harry?" + +"All standard books--poetry," Harry said. + +The young people's voices, chiming harmoniously, sounded in Mrs. Moxon's +room. The poor suffering lady, who was extended on an inclined couch +below the window, looked down at them, and saw Harry standing at Miss +Hoyden's head, with docile Brownie's bridle on his left arm, and Bessie, +with the fine end of her slender whip, teasing the dark fuzz of his +hair. They made a pretty picture at the gate, laughing and chattering +their confidences aloud. + +"What did Harry Musgrave say to your news, Bessie?" her father asked as +they rode away from the vicar's house. + +"I forgot to tell him!" cried she, pulling up and half turning round. +"I had so much to hear." But Mr. Carnegie said it was not worth while to +bring Harry out again from his books. How fevered the lad looked! Why +did not Moxon patronize open windows? + +The road they were pursuing was a gradual long ascent, which brought +them in sight of the sea and of a vast expanse of rolling heath and +woodland. When they reached the top of the hill they breathed their +horses a few minutes and admired the view, then struck into a +bridle-track across the heath, and regained the high-road about a mile +from Beechhurst. Scudding along in front of them was the familiar figure +of Miss Wort in her work-a-day costume--a drab cloak and poke bonnet, +her back up, and limp petticoats dragging in the dust. She turned +swiftly in at the neat garden-gate that had a green space before it, +where numerous boles of trees, lopt of their branches, lay about in +picturesque confusion. A wheelwright's shed and yard adjoined the +cottage, and Mr. Carnegie, halting without dismounting, whistled loud +and shrill to call attention. A wiry, gray-headed man appeared from the +shed, and came forward with a rueful, humorous twinkle in his shrewd +blue eyes. + +"Done again, Mr. Carnegie!" said he. "The old woman's done you again. It +is no good denying her physic, for physic she will have. She went to +Hampton Infirmary last Saturday with a ticket from Miss Wort, and +brought home two bottles o' new mixture. So you see, sir, between 'em, +you're frustrated once more." + +"I am not surprised. Drugging is as bad a habit as drinking, and as hard +to leave off. Miss Wort has just gone in to your wife, so I will not +intrude. What is your son doing at present, Christie?" + +"He's about somewhere idling with his drawing-book and bits o' colors. +He takes himself off whenever it is a finer day than common. Most likely +he's gone to Great-Ash Ford. He's met with a mate there after his own +mind--an artist chap. Was you wanting him, Mr. Carnegie?" + +"There is a job of painting to do at my stable, but it can wait. Only +tell him, and he will suit his convenience." + +At this moment Miss Wort reappeared in a sort of furtive hurry. She +gave a timid, sidelong glance at the doctor, and then addressed Bessie. +Mr. Carnegie had his eye upon her: she was the thorn in his professional +flesh. She meddled with his patients--a pious woman for whom other +people's souls and internal complaints supplied the excitement absent +from her own condition and favorite literature. She had some superfluous +income and much unoccupied time, which she devoted to promiscuous +visiting and the relief (or otherwise) of her poorer and busier +neighbors. Mr. Carnegie had refused to accept the plea of her good heart +in excuse of her bad practice, and had denounced her, in a moment of +extreme irritation, as a presumptuous and mischievous woman; and Miss +Wort had publicly rejoined that she would not call in Mr. Carnegie if +she were at death's door, because who could expect a blessing on the +remedies of a man who was not a professor of religion? The most cordial +terms they affected was an armed neutrality. The doctor was never free +from suspicion of Miss Wort. Though she looked scared and deprecating, +she did not shrink from responsibility, and would administer a dose of +her own prescribing in even critical cases, and pacify the doubts and +fears of her unlucky patient with tender assurances that if it did her +no good, it could do her no harm. Men she let alone, they were safe from +her: she did not pretend to know the queer intricacies of their insides; +also their aversion for physic she had found to be invincible. + +"Two of the pills ten minutes afore dinner-time, Miss Wort, ma'am, did +you say? It is not wrote so plain on the box as it might be," cried a +plaintive treble from the cottage door. The high hedge and a great bay +tree hid Mr. Carnegie from Mrs. Christie's view, but Miss Wort, +timorously aware of his observation, gave a guilty start, and shrieking +convulsively in the direction of the voice, "Yes, yes!" rushed to the +doctor's stirrup and burst into eager explanation: + +"It is only Trotter's strengthening pills, Mr. Carnegie. The basis of +them is iron--iron or steel. I feel positive that they will be of +service to Mrs. Christie, poor thing! with that dreadful sinking at her +stomach; for I have tried them myself on similar occasions. No, Mr. +Carnegie, a crust of bread would not be more to the purpose. A crust of +bread, indeed! Dr. Thomson of Edinburgh, the famous surgeon, has the +highest opinion of Trotter." + +Mr. Carnegie's face was a picture of disgust. He would have felt himself +culpable if he had not delivered an emphatic protest against Miss Wort's +experiments. Mrs. Christie had come trembling to the gate--a +pretty-featured woman, but sallow as old parchment--and the doctor +addressed his expostulations to her. Many defeats had convinced him of +the futility of appealing to Miss Wort. + +"If you had not the digestion of an ostrich, Mrs. Christie, you would +have been killed long ago," said he with severe reprobation. "You have +devoured half a man's earnings, and spoilt as fine a constitution as a +woman need be blessed with, by your continual drugging." + +"No, Mr. Carnegie, sir--with all respect to your judgment--I never had +no constitution worth naming where constitutions come," said Mrs. +Christie, deeply affronted. "That everybody's witness as knew me afore +ever I married into the Forest. And what has kept me up since, toiling +and moiling with a husband and boys, if the drugs hasn't? I hope I'm +thankful for the blessing that has been sent with them." Miss Wort +purred her approval of these pious sentences. + +"Some day you'll be in a hurry for an antidote, Mrs. Christie: that will +be the end of taking random advice." + +"Well, sir, if so I be, my William is not the man to grudge me what's +called for. As you _are_ here, Mr. Carnegie, I should wish to have an +understanding whether you mean to provide me with doctor's stuff; if +not, I'll look elsewhere. I've not heard that Mr. Robb sets his face +against drugs yet; which it stands to reason has a use, or God Almighty +wouldn't have given them." + +Mr. Carnegie rode off with a curt rejoinder to Mrs. Christie that he +would not supply her foolish cravings, Robb or no Robb. Miss Wort was +sorry for his contempt of the divine bounties, and sought an explanation +in his conduct: "Poor fellow! he has not entered a church since Easter, +unless he walks over to Littlemire, which is not likely." + +"If he has not entered Mr. Wiley's church, I'm with him, and so is my +William," said Mrs. Christie with sudden energy. "I can't abide Mr. +Wiley. Oh, he's an arrogant man! It's but seldom he calls this way, and +I don't care if it was seldomer; for could he have spoken plainer if it +had been to a dog? 'You'd be worse if you ailed aught, Mrs. Christie,' +says he, and grins. I'd been giving him an account of the poor health I +enjoy. And my William heard him with his own ears when he all but named +Mr. Carnegie in the pulpit, and not to his credit; so he's in the right +of it to keep away. A kinder doctor there is not far nor near, for all +he has such an unaccountable prejudice against what he lives by." + +"But that is not Christian. We ought not to absent ourselves from the +holy ordinances because the clergyman happens to offend us. We ought to +bear patiently being told of our faults," urged Miss Wort, who on no +account would have allowed one of the common people to impugn the +spiritual authorities unrebuked: her own private judgment on doctrine +was another matter. + +"'Between him and thee,' yes," said Mrs. Christie, who on some points +was as sensitive and acute as a well-born woman. "But it is taking a +mean advantage of a man to talk at him when he can't answer; that's what +my William says. For if he spoke up for himself, they'd call it brawling +in church, and turn him out. He ain't liked, Miss Wort; you can't say he +is, to tell truth. Not many of the gentlemen does attend church, except +them as goes for the look o' the thing, like the old admiral and a few +more." + +Miss Wort groaned audibly, then cheered up, and with a gush of feeling +assured her humble friend that it would not be so in a better world; +_there_ all would be love and perfect harmony. And so she went on her +farther way. Mr. Carnegie and Bessie Fairfax, riding slowly, were still +in sight. The next visit Miss Wort had proposed to pay was to a scene of +genuine distress, and she saw with regret that the doctor would +forestall her. He dismounted and entered a cottage by the roadside, and +when she reached it the door was shut, Brownie's bridle hung on the +paling, and Bessie was letting Miss Hoyden crop the sweet grass on the +bank while she waited. Miss Wort determined to stay for the doctor's +exit; she had remedies in her pocket for this case also. + +Within the cottage there was a good-looking, motherly woman, and a +large-framed young man of nineteen or twenty who sat beside the fire +with a ghastly face, and hands hanging down in dark despondency. He had +the aspect of one rising from a terrible illness; in fact, he had just +come out of prison after a month's hard labor. + +"It is his mind that's worst hurt, sir," said his mother, lifting her +eyes full of tears to Mr. Carnegie's kind face. "But he has a sore pain +in his chest, too, that he never used to have." + +"Stand up, Tom, and let me have a look at you," said the doctor, and Tom +stood up, grim as death, starved, shamed, unutterably miserable. + +"Mr. Wiley's been in, but all he had to say was as he hoped Tom would +keep straight now, since he'd found out by unhappy experience as the way +of transgressors is hard," the poor woman told her visitor, breaking +into a sob as she spoke. + +Mr. Carnegie considered the lad, and told him to sit down again, then +turned to the window. His eye lit on Miss Wort Standing outside with +downcast face, and hands as if she were praying. He tapped on the glass, +and as she rushed to the door he met her with a flag of truce in the +form of a requisition for aid. + +"Miss Wort, I know you are a liberal soul, and here is a case where you +can do some real good, if you will be guided," he said firmly. "I was +going to appeal to Lady Latimer, but I have put so much on her +ladyship's kindness lately--" + +"Oh, Mr. Carnegie! I have a right to help here," interrupted Miss Wort. +"A _right_, for poor Tom was years and years in my Sunday-school class; +so he can't be very bad! Didn't Admiral Parkins and the other +magistrates say that they would rather send his master to prison than +him, if they had the power?" + +"Yes; but he has done his prison now, and the pressing business is to +keep him from going altogether to the deuce. I want him to have a good +meal of meat three or four times a week, and light garden-work--all he +is fit for now. And then we shall see what next." + +"I wo'ant list and I wo'ant emigrate; I'll stop where I am and live it +down," announced Tom doggedly. + +"Yes, yes, that is what I should expect of you, Tom," said Miss Wort. +"Then you will recover everybody's good opinion." + +"I don't heed folks' opinions, good or bad. I know what I know." + +"Well, then, get your cap, and come home to dinner with me; it is roast +mutton," said Miss Wort, as if pleading with a fractious child. + +Tom rose heavily, took his cap, and followed her out. Mr. Carnegie +watched them as they turned down a back lane to the village, the lathy +figure of the lad towering by the head and shoulders above the poke +bonnet and drab cloak of Miss Wort. He was talking with much violent +gesture of arm and fist, and she was silent. But she was not ruminating +physic. + +"Miss Wort is like one of the old saints--she is not ashamed in any +company," said Bessie Fairfax. + +"If justice were satisfied with good intentions, Miss Wort would be a +blameless woman," said her father. + +A few minutes more brought the ride to an end at the doctor's door. And +there was a messenger waiting for him with a peremptory call to a +distance. It was a very rare chance indeed that he had a whole holiday. +His reputation for skill stood high in the Forest, and his practice was +extensive in proportion. But he had health, strength, and the heart for +it; and in fact it was his prosperity that bore half the burden of his +toils. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_GREAT-ASH FORD._ + + +A week elapsed. Lady Latimer called twice on Mrs. Carnegie to offer +counsel and countenance to Bessie Fairfax. The news that she was going +to leave the doctor's house for a rise in the world spread through the +village. Mrs. Wiley and Miss Buff called with the same benevolent +intentions as my lady. Mrs. Carnegie felt this oppressive, but tried to +believe that it was kind; Bessie grew impatient, and wished she could +be let alone. Mr. Phipps laughed at her, and asked if she did not enjoy +her novel importance. Bessie rejoined with a scorny "No, indeed!" Mr. +Phipps retaliated with a grimace of incredulity. + +Mr. John Short's letter had been acknowledged, but it did not get itself +answered. Mr. Carnegie said, and said again, that there was no hurry +about it. In fact, he could not bear to look the loss of Bessie in the +face. He took her out to ride with him twice in that seven days, and +when his wife meekly urged that the affair must go on and be finished, +he replied that as Kirkham had done without Bessie for fourteen years, +it might well sustain her absence a little longer. Kirkham, however, +having determined that it was its duty to reclaim Bessie, was moved to +be imperious. As Mr. Fairfax heard nothing from his lawyer, he went into +Norminster to bid him press the thing on. Mr. John Short pleaded to give +the Carnegies longer law, and when Mr. Fairfax refused to see any +grounds for it, he suggested a visit to Beechhurst as more appropriate +than another letter. + +"Who is to go? You or I?" asked the squire testily. + +"Both, if you like. But you would do best to go alone, to see the little +girl and the good people who have taken care of her, and to let the +whole matter be transacted on a friendly footing." + +Mr. Fairfax shrank from the awkwardness of the task, from the +humiliation of it, and said, "Could not Short manage it by post, without +a personal encounter?" Mr. Short thought not. Finally, it was agreed +that if another week elapsed without bringing the promised answer from +Mrs. Carnegie, they would go to Beechhurst together and settle the +matter on the spot. + +The doctor's procrastination stole the second seven days as it had +stolen the first. + +"Those people mean to make us some difficulty," said Mr. Fairfax with +secret irritation. + +Mr. John Short gave no encouragement to this suspicion; instead, he +urged the visit to Beechhurst. "We need not give more than three days to +it--one to go, one to stay, one to return," said he. + +Mr. Fairfax objected that he disliked travelling in a fuss. The lawyer +could return when their business was accomplished; as for himself, being +in the Forest, he should make a tour of it, the weather favoring. And +thus the journey was settled. + + * * * * * + +There was not a lovelier spot within children's foot-range of Beechhurst +than Great-Ash Ford. On a glowing midsummer day it was a perfect +paradise for idlers. Not far off, yet half buried out of sight amongst +its fruit trees, was a farmhouse thatched with reeds, very old, and +weather-stained of all golden, brown, and orange tints. A row of silver +firs was in the rear, and a sweep of the softest velvety sward stretched +from its narrow domain to the river. To watch the cattle come from the +farther pastures in single file across the shallow water at milking-time +was as pretty a bit of pastoral as could be seen in all the Forest. + +Bessie Fairfax loved this spot with a peculiar affection. Beyond the +ford went a footpath, skirting the river, to the village of Brook, where +young Musgrave lived--a footpath overshadowed by such giant fir trees, +such beeches and vast oaks as are nowhere else in England. The Great Ash +was a storm-riven fragment, but its fame continued, and its beauty in +sufficient picturesqueness for artistic purposes. Many a painter had +made the old russet farmhouse his summer lodging; and one was sketching +now where the water had dried in its pebbly bed, and the adventurous +little bare feet of Jack and Willie Carnegie were tempting an imaginary +peril in quest of the lily which still whitened the stream under the +bank. + +It was not often that Bessie, with the children alone, wandered so far +afield. But the day had beguiled them, and a furtive hope that Harry +Musgrave might be coming to Beechhurst that way had given Bessie +courage. He had not been met, however, when it was time to turn their +faces towards home. The boys had their forest pony, and mounted him by +turns. It was Tom's turn now, and Bessie was leading Jerry, and carrying +the socks and boots of the other two in the skirt of her frock, gathered +up in one hand. She was a little subdued, a little downcast, it might be +with fatigue and the sultry air, or it might be with her present +disappointment; but beyond and above all wearied sensations was the jar +of unsettledness that had come into her life, and perplexed and +confused all its sweet simplicities. She made no haste, but lingered, +and let the children linger as they pleased. + +The path by the river was not properly a bridle-path, but tourists for +pleasure often lost their way in the forest, and emerged upon the roads +unexpectedly from such delicious, devious solitudes. Thus it befell +to-day when two gentlemen on horseback overtook Bessie, where she had +halted with Tom and the pony to let Jack and Willie come up. They were +drying their pink toes preparatory to putting on again their shoes and +stockings as the strangers rode by. + +"Is this the way to Beechhurst, my little gypsy?" quoth the elder of the +two, drawing rein for a moment. + +Bessie looked up with a sunburnt face under her loose fair hair. "Yes, +sir," said she. Then a sudden intelligence gleamed in her eyes, her +cheeks blazed more hotly, and she thought to herself, "It is my +grandfather!" + +The gentlemen proceeded some hundred paces in silence, and then the one +whom Bessie suspected as her grandfather said to the other, "Short, that +is the girl herself! She has the true Fairfax face as it is painted in a +score of our old portraits." + +"I believe you are right, sir. Let us be certain--let us ask her name," +proposed the lawyer. + +Bessie's little troop were now ready to march, and they set off at a +run, heedless of her cry to stop a while behind the riders, "Else we +shall be in the dust of their heels," she said. Lingering would not have +saved her, however; for the strangers were evidently purposed to wait +until she came up. Jack was now taking his turn on Jerry, and Jerry with +his head towards his stable wanted no leading or encouraging to go. He +was soon up with the gentlemen and in advance of them. Next Tom and +Willie trotted by and stood, hand-in-hand, gazing at the horses. +Bessie's feet lagged as if leaden weights were tied to them, and her +conscious air as she glanced in the face of the stranger who had +addressed her before set at rest any remaining doubt of who she was. + +"Are you Elizabeth Fairfax who lives with Mrs. Carnegie?" he asked in an +abrupt voice--the more abrupt and loud for a certain nervousness and +agitation that arose in him at the sight of the child. + +"Yes, sir, I am," replied Bessie, like a veritable echo of himself. + +"Then, as we are travelling the same road, you will be our guide, eh?" + +"The children are little; they cannot keep pace with men on horseback," +said Bessie. They were a mile and a half from Beechhurst yet. Mr. John +Short spoke hastily in an endeavor to promote an understanding, and +blundered worse than his client: his suggestion was that they might each +take up one of the bairns; but the expression of Bessie's eyes was a +reminder that she might not please to trudge at their bridle, though the +little and weak ones were to be carried. + +"You are considering who is to take you up?" hazarded Mr. Fairfax. + +Bessie recovered her countenance and said, as she would have said to any +other strangers on horseback who might have invited her to be their +guide on foot, "You cannot miss the way. It lies straight before you for +nearly a mile over the heath; then you will come to cross-roads and a +guide-post. You will be at Beechhurst long before we shall." + +The gentlemen accepted their dismissal and rode on. Was Bessie mollified +at all by the mechanical courtesy with which their hats were lifted at +their departure? They recognized, then, that she was not the little +gypsy they had hailed her. It did not enter into her imagination that +they had recognized also the true Fairfax face under her dishevelled +holiday locks, though she was persuaded that the one who had asked her +name was her wicked grandfather: that her grandfather was a wicked man +Bessie had quite made up her mind. Mr. John Short admired her behavior. +It did not chafe his dignity or alarm him for the peace of his future +life. But Mr. Fairfax was not a man of humor; he saw no fun whatever in +his prospects with that intrepid child, who had evidently inherited not +the Fairfax face only, but the warm Fairfax temper. + +"Do you suppose that she guessed who we are?" he asked his man of law. + +"Yes, but she did not add to that the probability that we knew that she +guessed it, though she looks quick enough." + +Mr. Fairfax was not flattered: "I don't love a quick woman. A quick +woman is always self-willed and wanting in feminine sweetness." + +"There was never a Fairfax yet, man or woman, of mean understanding," +said the lawyer. "Since the little girl has the family features, the +chances are that she has the family brains, and no lack of wit and +spirit." + +Mr. Fairfax groaned. He held the not uncommon opinion that wit and +spirit endanger a man's peace and rule in a house. And yet in the case +of his son Laurence's Xantippe he had evidence enough that nothing in +nature is so discordant and intractable as a fool. Then he fell into a +silence, and turned his horse off the highway upon the margin of sward +at one side of it. Mr. John Short took the other; and so Bessie and the +boys soon lost sight of them. + +It was a beautiful forest-road when they had crossed the heath. No +hedges shut it in, but here and there the great beech trees stood in +clumps or in single grace, and green rides opened vistas into cool +depths of shade which had never changed but with the seasons for many +ages. It was quite old-world scenery here. Neither clearings nor +enclosures had been thought of, and the wild sylvan beauty had all its +own perfect way. Presently there were signs of habitation. A curl of +smoke from a low roof so lost in its orchard that but for that domestic +flag it might have escaped observation altogether; a triangular green +with a pond, geese and pigs; more thatched cottages, gardens, small +fields, large hedges, high, bushy, unpruned; hedgerow trees; a lonely +little chapel in a burial-ground, a woodyard, a wheelwright's shop, a +guide-post pointing three ways, a blacksmith's forge at one side of the +road, and an old inn opposite; cows, unkempt children; white gates, +gravelled drives, chimney-pots of gentility, hidden away in bowers of +foliage. Then a glimpse of the church-tower, a sweep in the road; the +church and crowded churchyard, the rectory, the doctor's house, and a +stone's throw off the "King's Arms" at the top of the town-street, which +sloped gently all down hill. Another forge, tiled houses, shops with +queer bow-windows and steps up to the half-glazed doors, where a bell +rang when the latch was lifted. More white gates, more well-kept +shrubberies; green lanes, roads branching, curving to right and left; +and everywhere those open spaces of lawn and magnificent beech trees, +as if the old town had an unlimited forest-right to scatter its +dwellings far and wide, just as caprice or the love of beauty might +dictate. + +"This is very lovely--it is a series of delightful pictures. Only to +live here must be a sort of education," said Mr. Fairfax as they arrived +within view of the ancient church and its precincts. + +Mr. John Short saw and smelt opportunities of improvement, but he agreed +that Beechhurst for picturesqueness was most desirable. Every cottage +had its garden, and every garden was ablaze with flowers. Flowers love +that moist sun and soil, and thrive joyfully. Gayest of the gay within +its trim holly hedge was the Carnegies. The scent of roses and +mignonette suffused the warm air of evening. The doctor was going about +with a watering-pot, tending his beauties and favorites, while he +watched for the children coming home. His name and profession, set forth +on a bright brass plate, adorned the gate, from which a straight +box-edged path led to the white steps of the porch. The stable entrance +was at the side. Everything about the place had an air of well-doing and +of means enough; and the doctor himself, whom the strangers eyed +observantly from the height of their saddles, looked like his own master +in all the independence of easy circumstances. + +Visitors to the Forest were too numerous in summer to attract notice. +Mr. Carnegie lifted his head for a moment, and then continued his +assiduities to a lovely old yellow rose which had manifested delicate +symptoms earlier in the season. Next to his wife and children the doctor +was fond of roses. The travellers rode past to the door of the "King's +Arms," and there dismounted. Half an hour after they were dining in an +up-stairs, bow-windowed room which commanded a cheerful prospect up and +down the village street, with a view of the church opposite and a side +glance of Mr. Carnegie's premises. They witnessed the return of Bessie +and the boys, and the fatherly help and reception they had. They saw the +doctor lift up Bessie's face to look at her, saw him pat her on the +shoulder encouragingly as she made him some brief communication, saw him +open the door and send her into the house, and then hurry round to the +stable to prevent the boys lingering while Jerry was rubbed down. He +had leisure and the heart, it seemed, for all such offices of kindness, +and his voice was the signal of instant obedience. + +Later in the evening they were all out in the garden--Mrs. Carnegie too. +One by one the children were dismissed to bed, and when only Bessie was +left, the doctor filled his pipe and had a smoke, walking to and fro +under the hedge, over which he conversed at intervals with passing +neighbors. His wife and Bessie sat in the porch. The only thing in all +this that Mr. Fairfax could except to was the doctor's clay pipe. He +denounced smoking as a low, pernicious habit; the lawyer, more tolerant, +remarked that it was an increasing habit and good for the revenue, but +bad for him: he believed that many a quarrel that might have ripened +into a lawsuit had prematurely collapsed in the philosophy that comes of +tobacco-smoke. + +"Perhaps it would prepare me with equanimity to meet my adversary," said +Mr. Fairfax. + +Mr. John Short had not intended to give the conversation this turn. He +feared that his client was working himself into an unreasonable humor, +in which he would be ready to transfer to Mr. Carnegie the reproaches +that were due only to himself. He was of a suspicious temper, and had +already insinuated that the people who had kept his grandchild must have +done it from interested and ulterior motives. The lawyer could not see +this, but he did see that if Mr. Fairfax was bent on making a contest of +what might be amicably arranged, no power on earth could hinder him. For +though it proverbially takes two to make a quarrel, the doctor did not +look as if he would disappoint a man of sharp contention if he sought +it. The soft word that turns away anger would not be of his speaking. + +"It will be through sheer mismanagement if there arise a hitch," Mr. +John Short said. "You desire to obtain possession of the child--then you +must go quietly about it. She is of an age to speak for herself, and our +long neglect may well have forfeited our claim. She is not your +immediate successor; there are infinite possibilities in the lives of +your two sons. If the case were dragged before the courts, she might be +given her choice where she would live; and if she has a heart she would +stay at Beechhurst, with her father's widow--and we are baulked." + +"What right has a woman to call herself a man's widow when she has +married again?" objected Mr. Fairfax. + +"Mrs. Carnegie's acknowledgment of our letter was courteous: we are on +the safe side yet," said the lawyer smoothly. "Suppose I continue the +negotiation by seeking an interview with her to-morrow morning?" + +"Have your own way. I am of no use, it seems. I wish I had stayed at +Abbotsmead and had let you come alone." + +Mr. John Short echoed the wish with all his heart, though he did not +give his thoughts tongue. He began to conjecture that some new aspect of +the affair had been presented to his client's mind by the encounter with +Elizabeth in the Forest. And he was right. The old squire had conceived +for her a sort of paradoxical love at first sight, and was become +suddenly jealous of all who had an established hold on her affections. +Here was the seed of an unforeseen complication, which was almost sure +to become inimical to Bessie's happiness when he obtained the guidance +of her life. + +When Mr. Carnegie's pipe was out the sunset was past and the evening +dews were falling. Nine had struck by the kitchen clock, supper was on +the table, and the lamp was shedding its light through the open window. + +"Come in, mother, come in, Bessie," said the doctor. "And, Bessie, let +us hear over again what was your adventure this afternoon?" + +Bessie sat down before her cup of new milk and slice of brown bread, and +told her simple tale a second time. It had been rather pooh-poohed the +first, but it had made an impression. Said Mr. Carnegie: "And you jumped +to the conclusion that this gentleman unknown was your grandfather, even +before he asked your name? Now to describe him." + +"He came from Hampton, because he rode Jefferson's old gray mare, and +the other rode the brown horse with white socks. He is a little like +Admiral Parkins--neither fat nor thin. He has white hair and a red and +brown color. He looks stern and as proud as Lucifer" (Mrs. Carnegie gave +Bessie a reproving glance), "and his voice sounds as if he were. Perhaps +he _could_ be kind--" + +"You don't flatter him in his portrait, Bessie. Apparently you did not +take to him?" + +"Not at all. I don't believe we shall ever be friends." + +"Bessie dear, you must not set your mind against Mr. Fairfax," +interposed her mother. "Don't encourage her in her nonsense and +prejudice, Thomas; they'll only go against her." + +"Now for your grandfather's companion, Bessie: what was he like?" + +"I did not notice. He was like everybody else--like Mr. Judson at the +Hampton Bank." + +"That would be our correspondent, the lawyer, Mr. John Short of +Norminster." + +Mr. Carnegie dropt the subject after this. His wife launched at him a +deprecating look, as much as to say, Would there not be vexation enough +for them all, without encouraging Bessie to revolt against lawful +authority? The doctor, who was guided more than he knew, thereupon held +his peace. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_AGAINST HER INCLINATION._ + + +Mr. Fairfax was not a man of sentimental recollections. Nevertheless, it +did occur to him, as the twilight deepened, that somewhere in the +encumbered churchyard that he was looking down upon lay his son Geoffry +and Geoffry's first wife, Elizabeth. He felt a very lonely old man as he +thought of it. None of his sons' marriages were to boast of, but +Geoffry's, as it turned out, was the least unfortunate of any--Geoffry's +marriage with Elizabeth Bulmer, that is. If he had not approved of that +lady, he had tolerated her--pity that he had not tolerated her a little +more! The Forest climate had not suited the robust young Woldshire folk. +Once Geoffry had appealed to his father to help him to change his +benefice, but had experienced a harsh refusal. This was after Elizabeth +had suffered from an attack of rheumatism and ague, when she longed to +escape from the lovely, damp screens of the Forest to fresh Wold +breezes. She died, and Geoffry took another wife. Then he died of what +was called in the district marsh-fever. Mr. Fairfax was not impervious +to regret, but no regret would bring them to life again. + +The next morning, while the dew was on the grass, he made his way into +the churchyard, and sought about for Geoffry's grave. He discovered it +in a corner, marked by a plain headstone and shaded by an elder bush. It +was the stone Geoffry had raised in memory of his Elizabeth, and below +her name his was inscribed, with the date of his death. The churchyard +was all neatly kept--this grave not more neatly than the others. Mrs. +Carnegie's affections had flowed into other channels, and Bessie had no +turn for meditation amongst the tombs. Mr. Fairfax felt rather more +forlorn after he had seen his son's last home than before, and might +have sunk into a fit of melancholy but for the diversion of his mind to +present matters. Just across the road Mr. Carnegie was mounting his +horse for his morning ride to the union workhouse, and Bessie was at the +gate seeing him off. + +The little girl was not at all tired, flushed, or abstracted now. She +was cheerful as a lark, fresh, fair, rosy--more like a Fairfax than +ever. But when she caught sight of her grandfather over the churchyard +wall, she put on her grave airs and mentioned the fact to Mr. Carnegie. +Mr. John Short had written already to bespeak an interview with Bessie's +guardian, and to announce the arrival of Mr. Fairfax at the "King's +Arms." But at the same moment had come an imperative summons from the +workhouse, and Mr. Carnegie was not the doctor to neglect a sick poor +man for any business with a rich one that could wait. He had bidden his +wife receive the lawyer, and was leaving her to appoint the time when +Bessie directed his attention to her grandfather. With a sudden movement +he turned his horse, touched his hat with his whip-handle, and said, +"Sir, are you Mr. Fairfax?" The stranger assented. "Then here is our +Bessie, your granddaughter, ready to make your acquaintance. My wife +will see your agent. As for myself, I have an errand elsewhere this +morning." With that, and a reassuring nod to Bessie, the doctor started +off at a hard trot, and the two, thus summarily introduced, stood +confronting one another with a wall, the road, and a gate between them. +There was an absurdity in the situation that Bessie felt very keenly, +and blushes, mirth, and vexation flowed over her tell-tale visage as she +waited holding the gate, willing to obey if her grandfather called her, +or to stay till he came. + +By a singular coincidence, while they were at a halt what to do or say, +Lady Latimer advanced up the village street, having walked a mile from +her house at Fairfield since breakfast. She was an early riser and a +great walker: her life must have been half as long again as the lives of +most ladies from the little portion of it she devoted to rest. She was +come to Beechhurst now on some business of school, or church, or parish, +which she assumed would, unless by her efforts, soon be at a deadlock. +But years will tell on the most vigorous frames, and my lady looked so +jaded that, if she had fallen in with Mr. Carnegie, he would have +reminded her, for her health's sake, that no woman is indispensable. She +gave Bessie that sweet smile which was flattering as a caress, and was +about to pass on when something wistful in the child's eyes arrested her +notice. She stopped and asked if there was any more news from Woldshire. +Bessie's round cheeks were two roses as she replied that her grandfather +Fairfax had come--that he was _there_ at the very moment, watching them +from the churchyard. + +"Where?" said my lady, and turned about to see. + +Mr. Fairfax knew her. He descended the steps, came out at the lych-gate, +and met her. At that instant the cast of his countenance reminded Bessie +of her cynical friend Mr. Phipps, and a thought crossed her mind that if +Lady Latimer had not recognized her grandfather and made a movement to +speak, he would not have challenged her. It would have seemed a very +remote period to Bessie, but it did not seem so utterly out of date to +themselves, that Richard Fairfax in his adolescence had almost run mad +for love of my lady in her teens. She had not reciprocated his passion, +and in a fit of desperation he had married his wife, the mother of his +three sons. Perhaps the cool affection he had borne them all his life +was the measure of his indifference to that poor lady, and that +indifference the measure of his vindictive constancy to his first idol. +They had not seen each other for many years; their courses had run far +apart, and they had grown old. But a woman never quite forgets to feel +interested in a man who has once worshipped her, though he may long +since have got up off his knees and gone and paid his devotions at other +shrines. Lady Latimer had not been so blessed in her life and affections +that she could afford to throw away even a flattering memory. Bessie's +talk of her grandfather had brought the former things to her mind. Her +face kindled at the sight of her friend, and her voice was the soul of +kindness. Mr. Fairfax looked up and pitied her, and lost his likeness to +Mr. Phipps. Ambitious, greedy of power, of rank, and riches--thus and +thus had he once contemned her; but there was that fascinating smile, +and so she would charm him if they met some day in Hades. + + * * * * * + +Bessie went in-doors to apprise her mother of the visitors who were at +hand. Mr. Fairfax and Lady Latimer stood for a quarter of an hour or +longer in the shade of the churchyard trees, exchanging news, the chief +news being the squire's business at Beechhurst. Lady Latimer offered him +her advice and countenance for his granddaughter, and assured him that +Bessie had fine qualities, much simplicity, and the promise of beauty. +Meanwhile Mrs. Carnegie, forewarned of the impending interview, +collected herself and prepared for it. She sent Bessie into the +rarely-used drawing-room to pull up the blinds and open the glass door +upon the lawn; and, further to occupy the nervous moments, bade her +gather a few roses for the china bowl on the round table. Bessie had +just finished her task, and was standing with a lovely Devoniensis in +her hand, when her grandfather appeared, supported by Lady Latimer. + +Mr. Fairfax was received by Mrs. Carnegie with courtesy, but without +effusion. It was the anxious desire of her heart that no ill-will should +arise because of Bessie's restoration. She was one of those unaffected, +reasonable, calm women whom circumstances rarely disconcert. Then her +imagination was not active. She did not pensively reflect that here was +her once father-in-law, but she felt comfortable in the consciousness +that Bessie had on a nice clean pink gingham frock and a crimped frill +round her white throat, in which she looked as pretty as she could look. +Bessie's light hair, threaded with gold, all crisp and wavy, and her +pure bright complexion, gave her an air of health and freshness not to +be surpassed. Her beauty was not too imposing--it was of everyday; and +though her wicked grandfather seemed to frown at her with his bushy gray +brows, and to search her through with his cold keen eyes, he was not +displeased by her appearance. He was gratified that she took after his +family. Bessie's expression as she regarded him again made him think of +that characteristic signature of her royal namesake, "Yours, as you +demean yourself, ELIZABETH," and he framed a resolution to +demean himself with all the humility and discretion at his command. He +experienced an impulse of affection towards her stronger than anything +he had ever felt for his sons: perhaps he discerned in her a more +absolute strain of himself. His sons had all taken after their mother. + +Mrs. Carnegie's reception propitiated Mr. Fairfax still further. She +said a few words in extenuation of the delay there had been in replying +to his communication through Mr. John Short; and he was able to reply, +even sincerely, that he was glad it had occurred, since it had +occasioned his coming to the Forest. Bessie reddened; she had an almost +irresistible desire to say something gruff--she abominated these +compliments. She was vexed that Lady Latimer should be their witness, +and bent her brows fiercely. My lady did not understand the signs of her +temper. She was only amused by the flash of that harmless fire, and +serenely interposed to soothe and encourage the little girl. Oh, if she +could have guessed how she was offending! + +"Can you spare Bessie for a few hours, Mrs. Carnegie? If you can, I will +carry her off to luncheon at Fairfield. Mr. Fairfax, whom I knew when I +was not much more than her age, will perhaps come too?" said my lady, +and Mr. Fairfax assented. + +But tears rushed to Bessie's eyes, and she would have uttered a most +decisive "No," had not Mrs. Carnegie promptly answered for her that it +was a nice plan. "Your dress is quite sufficient, Bessie," added my +lady, and she was sent up stairs to put on her hat. Did she stamp her +angry little foot as she obeyed? Probably. And she cried, for to go to +Fairfield thus was horribly against her inclination. Nevertheless, half +an hour later, when my lady had transacted the business that brought +her to Beechhurst so opportunely, Bessie found herself walking gently +along the road at her side, and on her other hand her wicked +grandfather, chatting of a variety of past events in as disengaged and +pleasant a fashion as an old gentleman of sixty-five, fallen +unexpectedly into the company of an old friend, could do. As Bessie +cooled down, she listened and began to speculate whether he might +possibly be not so altogether wicked as his recent misbehavior had led +her to conclude; then she began to think better things of him in a +general way, but unfortunately it did not occur to her that he might +possibly have conceived a liking to herself. Love, that best solvent of +difficulties, was astray between them from the beginning. + +Bessie was not invited to talk, but Lady Latimer gave her a kind glance +at intervals. Yet for all this encouragement her heart went pit-a-pat +when they came in sight of Fairfield; for about the gate was gathered a +group of young ladies--to Bessie's imagination at this epoch the most +formidable of created beings. There was one on horseback, a most +playful, sweet Margaret, who was my lady's niece; and another, a +dark-eyed, pretty thing, cuddling a brisk brown terrier--Dora and Dandy +they were; and a tall, graceful Scotch lassie, who ran to meet Lady +Latimer, and fondled up to her with the warmest affection; and two +little girls besides, sisters to Dora, very frank to make friends. Each +had some communication in haste for my lady, who, when she could get +leave to speak, introduced her niece to Mr. Fairfax, and recommended +Bessie to the attention of her contemporaries. Forthwith they were +polite. Dora offered Dandy to Bessie's notice; Margaret courted +admiration for Beauty; the others looked on with much benevolence, and +made cordial remarks and lively rejoinders. Bessie was too shy to enjoy +their affability; she felt awkward, and looked almost repulsively proud. +The younger ones gradually subsided. Margaret had often met Bessie +riding with Mr. Carnegie, and they knew each other to bow to. Bessie +patted Beauty's neck and commended her--a great step towards +friendliness with her mistress--and Margaret said enthusiastically, "Is +she not a darling? She shall have sugar, she shall! Oh, Aunt Olympia, +Beauty went so well to-day!" Then to Bessie: "That is a handsome little +mare you ride: what a sharp trot you go at sometimes!" + +"It is my father's pace--we get over the ground fast. Miss Hoyden, she +is called--she is almost thoroughbred." + +"You ride, Elizabeth? That is a good hearing," said Mr. Fairfax. "You +shall have a Miss Hoyden at Abbotsmead." + +Bessie colored and turned her head for a moment, but said nothing. +Margaret whispered that _would_ be nice. Poor Bessie's romance was now +known to the young ladies of the neighborhood, and she was more +interesting to them than she knew. + +Lady Latimer led the way with Mr. Fairfax up the drive overhung with +flowering trees and bushes. On the steps before the open hall-door stood +Mr. Wiley, whom my lady had bidden to call and stay to luncheon when his +pastoral visits brought him into the vicinity of Fairfield. He caught +sight of his young neighbor, Bessie Fairfax, and on the instant, with +that delicious absence of tact which characterized him, he asked +brusquely, "How came _you_ here?" Bessie blushed furiously, and no one +answered--no one seemed to hear but herself; so Mr. Wiley added +confidentially, "It is promotion indeed to come to Fairfield. Keep +humble, Bessie." + +"Wait for me, Miss Fairfax," said Margaret as she dismounted. "Come to +my room." And Bessie went without a word, though her lips were laughing. +She was laughing at herself, at her incongruousness, at her trivial +mortifications. Margaret would set her at her ease, and Bessie learnt +that she had a rare charm in her hair, both from its color and the +manner of its growth. It was lovely, Margaret told her, and pressed its +crisp shining abundance with her hand delicately. + +"That is a comfort in adverse circumstances," said Bessie with a light +in her eyes. Then they ran down stairs to find the morning-room deserted +and all the company gone in to luncheon. + +The elders of the party were placed at a round table, a seat for Bessie +being reserved by Lady Latimer. Two others were empty, into one of which +dropt Margaret; the other was occupied by Mr. Bernard, the squire of the +next parish, to whom Margaret was engaged. Their marriage, in fact, was +close at hand, and Beechhurst was already devising its rejoicings for +the wedding-day. + +The little girls were at a side-table, sociable and happy in under +tones. Bessie believed that she might have been happy too--at any rate, +not quite so miserable--if Mr. Wiley had not been there to lift his +brows and intimate surprise at the honor that was done her. She hated +her exaltation. She quoted inwardly, "They that are low need fear no +fall," and trembled for what he might be moved to say next. There was a +terrible opportunity of silence, for at first nobody talked. A crab of +brobdignagian proportions engrossed the seniors. Bessie and the younger +ones had roast lamb without being asked what they would take, and +Bessie, all drawbacks notwithstanding, found herself capable of eating +her dinner. The stillness was intense for a few minutes. Bessie glanced +at one or two of the intent faces preparing crab with a close devotion +to the process that assured satisfaction in the result, and then she +caught Lady Latimer's eye. They both smiled, and suddenly the talk broke +out all round; my lady beginning to inquire of the rector concerning +young Musgrave of Brook, whether he knew him. Bessie listened with +breathless interest to this mention of her dear comrade. + +"Yes, I know him, in a way--a clever youth, ambitious of a college +education," said Mr. Wiley. "I have tried my best to dissuade him, but +his mind is bent on rising in the world. Like little Christie, the +wheelwright's son, who must be an artist." + +"Why discourage young Musgrave? I heard from his father a few days ago +that he had won a scholarship at Hampton worth fifty pounds a year, +tenable for three years." + +"That is news, indeed! Moxon has coached him well: I sent him to poor +Moxon. He wanted to read with me, but--you understand--I could not +exactly receive him while Lord Rafferty and Mr. Duffer are in my house. +So I sent him to poor Moxon, who is glad of a pupil when he can get +one." + +"I wish Mr. Moxon better preferment. As for young Musgrave, he must have +talent. I was driving through Brook yesterday, and I called at the +manor-house. The mother is a modest person of much natural dignity. The +son was out. I left a message that I should be glad to see him, and do +something for him, if he would walk over to Fairfield." + +"He will not come, I warrant," exclaimed Mr. Wiley. "He is a radical +fellow, and would say, as soon as look at you, that he had no wish to be +encumbered with patronage." + +"He would not say so to Lady Latimer," cried Bessie Fairfax. Her voice +rang clear as a bell, and quite startled the composed, refined +atmosphere. Everybody looked at her with a smile. My lady exchanged a +glance with her niece. + +"Then young Musgrave is a friend of yours?" she said, addressing her +little guest. + +"We are cousins," was Bessie's unhesitating reply. + +"I was not aware of it," remarked her grandfather drily. + +Bessie was not daunted. Mrs. Musgrave was Mrs. Carnegie's elder sister. +Young Musgrave and the young Carnegies called cousins, and while she was +one of the Carnegies she was a cousin too. Besides, Harry Musgrave was +the nephew of her father's second wife, and their comradeship dated from +his visits to the rectory while her father was alive. She did not offer +explanations, but in her own mind she peremptorily refused to deny or +relinquish that cousinship. She went on eating in a dream of confusion, +very rosy as to the cheeks and very downcast as to the eyes, but not at +all ashamed. The little girls wondered with great amazement. Mr. Wiley +did not relish his rebuke, and eyed Bessie with anything but charity. +His bad genius set him expatiating further on the hazardous theme of +ambition in youths of low birth and mean estate, with allusions to Brook +and the wheelwright's shed that could not be misunderstood. Mr. Fairfax, +observing his granddaughter, felt uneasy. Lady Latimer generalized to +stop the subject. Suddenly said Bessie, flashing at the rector, and +quoting Mr. Carnegie, "You attribute to class what belongs to +character." Then, out of her own irrepressible indignation, she added, +"Harry Musgrave is as good a gentleman as you are, and little Christie +too, though he may be only a carpenter's son." (Which was not saying +much for them, as Mr. Phipps remarked when he was told the story.) + +Lady Latimer stood up and motioned to all the young people to come away. +They vanished in retiring, some one road, some another, and for the +next five minutes Bessie was left with my lady alone, angry and +exquisitely uncomfortable, but not half alive yet to the comic aspect of +her very original behavior. She glanced with shy deprecation in Lady +Latimer's face, and my lady smiled with a perfect sympathy in her +sensations. + +"You are not afraid to speak up for an absent friend, but silence is the +best answer to such impertinences," said she, and then went on to talk +of Abbotsmead and Kirkham till Bessie was almost cheated of her +distressing self-consciousness. + +Fairfield was a small house, but full of prettiness. Bessie Fairfax had +never seen anything so like a picture as the drawing-room, gay with +flowers, perfumed, airy, all graceful ease and negligent comfort. From a +wide-open glass door a flight of steps descended to the rose-garden, now +in its beauty. Paintings, mirrors decorated the walls; books strewed the +tables. There were a hundred things, elegant, grotesque, and useless, to +look at and admire. How vivid, varied, delicious life must be thus +adorned! Bessie thought, and lost herself a little while in wonder and +curiosity. Then she turned to Lady Latimer again. My lady had lost +herself in reverie too; her countenance had an expression of weary +restlessness and unsatisfied desire. No doubt she had her private cares. +Bessie felt afraid, as if she had unwittingly surprised a secret. + +Visitors were announced. The gentlemen came from the dining-room. Mr. +Bernard and Margaret appeared from the rose-garden. So did some of the +little girls, and invited Bessie down the steps. There was a general hum +of voices and polite laughter. More visitors, more conversation, more +effort. Bessie began to feel tired of the restraint, and looked up to +her grandfather, who stood in the doorway talking to Margaret. The next +minute he came to her, and said, with as much consideration as if she +were a grown-up person, "You have had enough of this, Elizabeth. It is +time we were returning to Beechhurst." + +Margaret understood. "You wish to go? Come, then; I will take you to my +room to put on your hat," said she. + +They escaped unnoticed except by Lady Latimer. She followed them for a +hasty minute, and began to say, "Margaret I have been thinking that +Bessie Fairfax will do very well to take Winny's place as bridesmaid +next week, since Winny cannot possibly come." + +"Oh no, no, no!" cried Bessie, clasping her hands in instant, pleading +alarm. + +Margaret laughed and bade her hush. "Nobody contradicts Aunt Olympia," +she said in a half whisper. + +"I will speak to Mr. Fairfax and arrange it at once," Lady Latimer +added, and disappeared to carry out her sudden intention. + +Bessie reiterated her prayer to be left alone. "You will do very well. +You are very nice," rejoined Margaret, not at all understanding her +objections. "White over blue and blue bonnets are the bridesmaids' +colors. My cousin Winny has caught the measles. Her dress will fit you, +but Aunt Olympia's maid will see to all that. You must not refuse me." + +When they went down stairs Bessie found that her grandfather had +accepted for her Lady Latimer's invitation, and that he had also +accepted for himself an invitation to the wedding. Nor yet were the +troubles of the day over. + +"Are you going to walk?" said Mr. Wiley, coming out into the hall. "Then +I shall have much pleasure in walking with you. Our roads are the same." + +Bessie's dismay was so evident as to be ludicrous. Mr. Wiley was either +very forgiving or very pachydermatous. Lady Latimer kissed her, and +whispered a warning "Take care!" and she made a sign of setting a watch +on her lips. + +"So you will not have to be a teacher, after all, Bessie?" the judicious +rector took occasion to say the moment they were clear of Fairfield. Mr. +Fairfax listened. Bessie felt hot and angry: what need was there to +inflict this on her grandfather? "Was it a dressmaker or a +school-mistress Lady Latimer last proposed to make of you? I forget," +said Mr. Wiley with an air of guileless consideration as he planted his +thorn. + +"I never heard that there was any idea of dressmaking: I am not fond of +my needle," said Bessie curtly. + +"Yes, there was. Her ladyship spoke of it to Mrs. Wiley. We hoped that +you might be got into Madame Michaud's establishment at Hampton to +learn the business. She is first-class. My wife patronizes her." + +"I wish people would mind their own business." + +"There is no harm done. But the remembrance of what you have been saved +from should keep you meek and lowly in spirit, Bessie. I have been +grieved to-day, _deeply grieved_, to see that you already begin to feel +uplifted." Mr. Wiley dwelt in unctuous italics on his regret, and waved +his head slowly in token of his mournfulness. Bessie turned scarlet and +held her peace. + +"You must be very benevolent people here," said Mr. Fairfax +sarcastically. "Is Mr. Carnegie so poor and helpless a man that his kind +neighbors must interfere to direct his private affairs?" + +Mr. Wiley's eyes glittered as he replied, parrying the thrust and +returning it: "No, no, but he has a large and increasing family of his +own; and with little Bessie thrown entirely on his hands besides, +friends might well feel anxious how she was to be provided for--Lady +Latimer especially, who interests herself for all who are in need. Her +ladyship has a great notion that women should be independent." + +"My father is perfectly able and perfectly willing to do everything that +is necessary for his children. No one would dream of meddling with us +who knew him," cried Bessie impetuously. Her voice shook, she was so +annoyed that she was in tears. Mr. Fairfax took her hand, squeezed it +tight, and retained it as they walked on. She felt insulted for her +dear, good, generous father. She was almost sobbing as she continued in +his praise: "He has insured his life for us. I have heard him say that +we need never want unless by our own fault. And the little money that +was left for me when my real father died has never been touched: it was +put into the funds to save up and be a nest-egg for me when I marry." + +Mr. Wiley's teeth gleamed his appreciation of this _naïve_ bit of +information. And even her grandfather could not forbear a smile, though +he was touched. "I am convinced that you have been in good hands, +Elizabeth," said he warmly. "It was not against Mr. Carnegie that any +neglect of natural duty was insinuated, but against me." + +Bessie looked down and sighed. Mr. Wiley deprecated the charge of +casting blame anywhere. Mr. Fairfax brusquely turned the conversation to +matters not personal--to the forest-laws, the common-rights and +enclosure acts--and Bessie kept their pace, which quickened +imperceptibly, ruminating in silence her experiences of the day. +Mortification mingled with self-ridicule was uppermost. To be a +bridesmaid amongst the grand folks at Fairfield--could anything be more +absurdly afflicting? To be a seamstress at Madame Michaud's--the odious +idea of it! Poor Bessie, what a blessing to her was her gift of humor, +her gift for seeing the laughable side of things and people, and +especially the laughable side of herself and her trials! + +Mr. Wiley was shaken off on the outskirts of the village, where a +ragged, unkempt laborer met him, and insisted on exchanging civilities +and conventional objections to the weather. "We wants a shower, parson." + +"A shower! You're _wet_ enough," growled Mr. Wiley with a gaze of severe +reprobation. "And you were drunk on Sunday." + +"Yes! I'se wet every day, and at my own expense, too," retorted the +delinquent with a grin. + +Mr. Fairfax and Bessie walked on to the "King's Arms," and there for the +present said good-bye. Bessie ran home to tell her adventures, but on +the threshold she met a check in the shape of Jack, set to watch for her +return and tell her she was wanted. Mr. John Short was come, and was +with Mrs. Carnegie in the drawing-room. + +"I say, Bessie, you are not going away, are you?" asked the boy, laying +violent hands on her when he had acquitted himself of his message. +"Biddy says you are. I say you sha'n't." + +Mrs. Carnegie heard her son's unabashed voice in the hall, and opening +the door, she invited Bessie in. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_HER FATE IS SEALED._ + + +Mr. John Short rose as Miss Fairfax entered, and bowed to her with +deference. Bessie, being forbidden by her mother to retreat, sat down +with ostentatious resignation to bear what was to come. But her bravado +was not well enough grounded to sustain her long. The preliminaries were +already concluded when she arrived, and Mrs. Carnegie was giving +utterance to her usual regret that her dear little girl had not been +taught to speak French or play on the piano. Mr. Fairfax's +plenipotentiary looked grave. His own daughters were perfect in those +accomplishments--"Indispensable to the education of a finished +gentlewoman," he said. + +Thereupon Bessie, still in excited spirits, delivered her mind with +considerable force and freedom. "It is nonsense to talk of making me a +finished gentlewoman," she added: "I don't care to be anything but a +woman of sense." + +Mr. John Short answered her shrewdly: "There is no reason why you should +not be both, Miss Fairfax. A woman of sense considers the fitness of +things. And at Abbotsmead none but gentlewomen are at home." + +Bessie colored and was silent. "We have been proposing that you should +go to school for a year or two, dear," said Mrs. Carnegie persuasively. +Tears came into Bessie's eyes. The lawyer's letter had indeed mentioned +school, but she had not anticipated that the cruel suggestion would be +carried out. + +"Shall it be an English school or a school in France?" said Mr. Short, +taking the indulgent cue, to avoid offence and stave off resistance. But +his affectation of meekness was more provoking than his sarcasm. Bessie +fired up indignantly at such unworthy treatment. + +"You are deciding and settling everything without a word to my father. +How do you know that he will let me go away? I don't want to go," she +said. + +"That _is_ settled, Bessie darling. _You have to go_--so don't get angry +about it," said Mrs. Carnegie with firmness. "You may have your choice +about a school at home or abroad, and that is all. Now be good, and +consider which you would like best." + +Bessie's tears overflowed. "I hate girls!" she said with an asperity +that quite shamed her mother, "they are so silly." Mr. John Short with +difficulty forbore a smile. "And they don't like me!" she added with +gusty wrath. "I never get on with girls, never! I don't know what to say +to them. And when they find out that I can't speak French or play on the +piano, they will laugh at me." Her own countenance broke into a laugh as +she uttered the prediction, but she laughed with tears still in her +eyes. + +The lawyer nodded his head in a satisfied way. "It will all come right +in time," said he. "If you can make fun of the prospect of school, the +reality will not be very terrible to a young lady of your courageous +temper." + +Poor Bessie was grave again in an instant. She felt that she had let her +fate slip out of her hands. She could not now declare her refusal to go +to school at all; she could only choose what kind of school she would go +to. "If it must be one or another, let it be French," she said, and +rushed from the room in a tempestuous mood. + +Mrs. Carnegie excused her as very affectionate, and as tired and +overdone. She looked tired and overdone herself, and out of spirits as +well. Mr. John Short said a few sympathetic words, and volunteered a few +reasonable pledges for the future, and then took his leave--the kindest +thing he could do, since thus he set the mother at liberty to go and +comfort her child. Her idea of comforting and Bessie's idea of being +comforted consisted, for the nonce, in having a good cry together. + + * * * * * + +When his agent came to explain to Mr. Fairfax how far he had carried his +negotiations for his granddaughter's removal from Beechhurst, the squire +demurred. The thorn which Mr. Wiley had planted in his conscience was +rankling sorely; his pride was wounded too--perhaps that was more hurt +even than his conscience--but he felt that he had much to make up to the +child, not for his long neglect only, but for the indignities that she +had been threatened with. She might have been apprenticed to a trade; he +might have had to negotiate with some shopkeeper to cancel her +indentures. He did not open his mind to Mr. John Short on this matter; +he kept it to himself, and made much more of it in his imagination than +it deserved. Bessie had already forgotten it, except as a part of the +odd medley that her life seemed coming to, and in the recollection it +never vexed her; but it was like a grain of sand in her grandfather's +eye whenever he reviewed the incidents of this time. He gathered from +the lawyer's account of the interview how little acceptable to Bessie +was the notion of being sent to school, and asked why she should not go +to Abbotsmead at once? + +"There is no reason why she should not go to Abbotsmead if you will have +a lady in the house--a governess," said Mr. John Short. + +"I will have no governess in the house; I suppose she is too young to be +alone?" + +"Well, yes. Mrs. Carnegie would not easily let her go unless in the +assurance that she will be taken care of. She has been a good deal +petted and spoiled. She is a fine character, but she would give you +nothing but trouble if you took her straight home." + +Lady Latimer, with whom Mr. Fairfax held further counsel, expressed much +the same opinion. She approved of Elizabeth, but it was impossible to +deny that she had too much self-will, that she was too much of the +little mistress. She had been sovereign in the doctor's house; to fall +amongst her equals in age and seniors in school would be an excellent +discipline. Mr. Fairfax acquiesced, and two or three years was the term +of purgatory to which Bessie heard herself condemned. It was no use +crying. My lady encouraged her to anticipate that she would be very +tolerably happy at school. She was strong enough not to mind its +hardships; some girls suffered miserably from want of health, but she +had vigor and spirits to make the best of circumstances. Bessie was +flattered by this estimate of her pluck, but all the same she preferred +to avert her thoughts from the contemplation of the strange future that +was to begin in September. It was July now, and a respite was to be +given her until September. + +Mr. John Short--his business done--returned to Norminster, and Mr. +Fairfax and Mr. Carnegie met. They were extremely distant in their +behavior. Mr. Carnegie refused to accept any compensation for the +charges Bessie had put him to, and made Mr. Fairfax wince at his +information that the child had earned her living twice over by her +helpfulness in his house. He did not mean to be unkind, but only to set +forth his dear little Bessie's virtues. + +"She will never need to go a-begging, Bessie won't," said he. "She can +turn her hand to most things in a family. She has capital sense, and a +warm heart for those who can win it." + +Mr. Fairfax bowed solemnly, as not appreciating this catalogue of homely +graces. The doctor looked very stern. He had subdued his mind to the +necessity, but he felt his loss in every fibre of his affections. No +one, except Bessie herself, half understood the sacrifice he was put +upon making, for he loved her as fondly as if she had been his very own; +and he knew that once divided from his household she never would be like +his own again. But her fate was settled, and the next event in her +experience seemed to set a seal upon it. + +The day Mr. John Short left the Forest, Beechhurst began to set up its +arches and twine its garlands for the wedding of Lady Latimer's niece. +Bessie made a frantic effort to escape from the bridesmaid's honors that +were thrust upon her, but met with no sympathy except from her father, +and even he did not come to her rescue. He bade her never mind, it would +soon be over. One sensible relief she had in the midst of her fantastic +distress: Harry Musgrave was away, and would not see her in her +preposterous borrowed plumes. He had gone with Mr. Moxon on a week's +excursion to Wells, and would not return until after the wedding. Bessie +was full of anxieties how her dear old comrade would treat her now. She +found some people more distant and respectful, she did not wish that +Harry should be more respectful--that would spoil their intercourse. + +Jolly Miss Buff was an immense help, stay, and comfort to her little +friend till through this perplexing ordeal. She was full of harmless +satire. She proposed to give Bessie lessons in manners, and to teach her +the court curtsey. She chuckled over her reluctance to obey commands to +tea at the rectory, and flattered her with a prediction that she would +enjoy the grand day of the wedding at Fairfield. "I know who the +bridesmaids are, and you will be the prettiest of the bunch," she +assured her. "Don't distress yourself: a bridesmaid has nothing to do +but to look pretty and stand to be stared at. It will be better fun at +the children's feast than at the breakfast--a wedding breakfast is +always slow--but you will see a host of fine people, which is amusing, +and since Lady Latimer wishes it, what need you care? You are one of +them, and your grandfather will be with you." + +Before the day came Bessie had been wrought up to fancy that she should +almost enjoy her little dignity. Its garb became her well. The Carnegie +boys admired her excessively when she was dressed and set off to +Fairfield, all alone in her glory, in a carriage with a pair of gray +horses and a scarlet postilion; and when she walked into church, one of +a beautiful bevy of half a dozen girls in a foam of white muslin and +blue ribbons, Mrs. Carnegie was not quick enough to restrain Jack from +pointing a stumpy little finger at her and crying out, "There's our +Bessie!" Bessie with a blush and a smile the more rallied round the +bride, and then looked across the church at her mother with a merry, +happy face that was quite lovely. + +Mr. Fairfax, who had joined the company at the church door, at this +moment directed towards her the notice of a gentleman who was standing +beside him. "That is Elizabeth--my little granddaughter," said he. The +gentleman thus addressed said, "Oh, indeed!" and observed her with an +air of interest. + +Then the solemnity began. There was a bishop to marry the happy couple +(Bessie supposed they were happy, though she saw the blossoms quiver on +the bride's head, and the bridegroom's hand shaking when he put the ring +on her finger), and it was soon done--very soon, considering that it was +to last for life. They drove back to Fairfield with a clamor of +bells--Beechhurst had a fine old peal--and a shrill cheering of children +along the roadside. Lady Latimer looked proud and delighted, and +everybody said she had made an excellent match for her charming niece. + +Bessie Fairfax was in the same carriage returning as the gentleman whose +attention had been called to her by her grandfather in the church. He +paid her the compliment of an attempt at conversation. He also sat by +her at the breakfast, and was kind and patronizing: her grandfather +informed her that he was a neighbor of his in Woldshire, Mr. Cecil +Burleigh. Bessie blushed, and made a slight acknowledgment with her +head, but had nothing to say. He was a very fine gentleman indeed, this +Mr. Cecil Burleigh--tall and straight, with a dark, handsome face and an +expression of ability and resolution. His age was seven-and-twenty, and +he had the appearance of an accomplished citizen of the world. Not to +make a mystery of him, _he_ was the poor young gentleman of great +talents and great expectations of whom the heads of families had spoken +as a suitable person to marry Elizabeth Fairfax and to give the old +house of Abbotsmead a new lease of life. He was a good-natured person, +but he found Bessie rather heavy in hand; she was too young, she had no +small talk, she was shy of such a fine gentleman. They were better +amused, both of them, in the rose-garden afterward--Bessie with Dora and +Dandy, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh with Miss Julia Gardiner, the most +beautiful young lady, Bessie thought, that she had ever seen. She had a +first impression that they were lovers. + +Mr. Fairfax had been entirely satisfied by his granddaughter's behavior +in her novel circumstances. Bessie was pretty and she was pleased. +Nothing was expected of her either to do or to say. She had a frank, +bright manner that was very taking, and a pleasant voice when she +allowed it to be heard. Lady Latimer found time to smile at her once or +twice, and to give her a kind, encouraging word, and when the guests +began to disperse she was told that she must stay for a little dance +there was to be in the evening amongst the young people in the house. +She stayed, and danced every dance with as joyous a vivacity as if it +had been Christmas in the long parlor at Brook and Harry Musgrave her +partner; and she confessed voluntarily to her mother and Mr. Phipps +afterward that she had been happy the whole day. + +"You see, dear Bessie, that I was right to insist upon your going," said +her mother. + +"And the kettles never once bumped the earthen pot--eh?" asked Mr. +Phipps mocking. + +"You forget," said Bessie, "I'm a little kettle myself now;" and she +laughed with the gayest assurance. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_BESSIE'S FRIENDS AT BROOK._ + + +That respite till September was indeed worth much to Bessie. Her mind +was gently broken in to changes. Mr. Fairfax vanished from the scene, +and Lady Latimer appeared on it more frequently. My lady even took upon +her (out of the interest she felt in her old friend) to find a school +for Bessie, and found one at Caen which everybody seemed to agree would +do. The daughters of the Liberal member for Hampton were receiving their +education there, and Mrs. Wiley knew the school. + +It was a beautiful season in the Forest--never more beautiful--and +Bessie rode with her father whenever he could go with her. Then young +Musgrave came back from Wells. Perhaps it is unnecessary to repeat that +Bessie was very fond of young Musgrave. It was quoted of her, when she +was a fat little trot of seven years old and he a big boy of twelve, +that she had cried herself to sleep because he had refused her a kiss, +being absorbed in some chemical experiment that smelt abominably when +her mother called her to bed. The denial was singularly unkind, and even +ungrateful that evening, because Bessie had not screamed when he +electrified her round, wee nose. She was still so tender at heart for +him that she would probably have cried now if he had roughed her. But +they were friends, the best of friends--as good as brother and sister. +Harry talked of himself incessantly; but what hero to her so +interesting? Not even his mother was so indulgent to his harmless +vanities as Bessie, or thought him so surely predestined to be one of +the great men of his day. + +It was early yet to say that Harry Musgrave was born under a lucky star, +but his friends did say it. He was of a most popular character, not too +wise or good to dispense with indulgence, or too modest to claim it. At +twelve he was a clumsy lad, bold, audacious, pleasant-humored, with a +high, curly, brown head, fine bright eyes, and no features to mention. +At twenty he had grown up into a tall, manly fellow, who meant to have +his share in the world if courage could capture it. Plenty of staying +power, his schoolmasters said he had, and it was the consciousness of +force in reserve that gave him much of his charm. Jealousy, envy, +emulation could find no place in him; he had been premature in nothing, +and still took his work at sober pace. He had a wonderful gift of +concentrativeness, and a memory to match. He loved learning for its own +sake far more than for the honor of excelling, and treated the favors of +fortune with such cool indifference that the seers said they were sure +some day to fall upon him in a shower. He had his pure enthusiasms and +lofty ambitions, as what young man of large heart and powerful intellect +has not? And he was now in the poetic era of life. + +Bessie Fairfax had speculated much and seriously beforehand how Harry +Musgrave would receive the news that she was going to be a lady. He +received it with most sovereign equanimity. + +"You always were a lady, and a very nice little lady, Bessie. I don't +think they can mend you," said he. + +The communication and flattering response were made at Brook, in the +sitting-room of the farm--a spacious, half-wainscoted room, with dark +polished floor, and a shabby old Persian carpet in the centre of it. A +very picture-like interior it was, with the afternoon sun pouring +through its vine-shaded open lattice, though time and weather-stains +were on the ceiling and pale-colored walls, and its scant furniture was +cumbrous, worn, and unbeautiful. The farm-house had been the manor once, +and was fast falling to pieces. Mr. Musgrave's landlord was an +impoverished man, but he could not sell a rood of his land, because his +heir was a cousin with whom he was at feud. It was a daily trial to Mrs. +Musgrave's orderly disposition that she had not a neat home about her, +but its large negligence suited her husband and son. This bare +sitting-room was Harry's own, and with the wild greenery outside was +warm, sweet, and fresh in hot summer weather, though a few damp days +filled it with odors of damp and decay. It was a cell in winter, but in +July a bower. + +And none the less a bower for those two young people in it this +afternoon. Mr. Carnegie had dropped Bessie at Brook in the morning, and +young Musgrave was to escort her home in the cool of the evening. His +mother and she had spent an hour together since the midday dinner, and +now the son of the house had called for her. They sat one on each side +of the long oak board which served young Musgrave for a study-table and +stood endwise towards the middle lattice. Harry had a new poem before +him, which he was tired of reading. The light and shadow played on both +their faces. There was a likeness for those who could see it--the same +frank courage in their countenances, the same turn for reverie in their +eyes. Harry felt lazy. The heat, the drowsy hum of bees in the +vine-blossoms, and the poetry-book combined, had made him languid. Then +he had bethought him of his comrade. Bessie came gladly, and poured out +in full recital the events that had happened to her of late. To these +she added the projects and anticipations of the future. + +"Dear little Bessie! she fancies she is on the eve of adventures. +Terribly monotonous adventures a girl's must be!" said the conceit of +masculine twenty. + +"I wish I had been a boy--it must be much better fun," was the whimsical +rejoinder of feminine fifteen. + +"And you should have been my chum," said young Musgrave. + +"That is just what I should have liked. Caen is nearer to Beechhurst +than it is to Woldshire, so I shall come home for my holidays. Perhaps I +shall never see you again, Harry, when I am transported to Woldshire." +This with a pathetic sigh. + +"Never is a long day. I shall find you out; and if I don't, you'll hear +of me. I mean to be heard of, Bessie." + +"Oh yes, Harry, I am sure you will. Shall you write a book? Will it be a +play? They always seem to walk to London with a play in their pockets, a +tragedy that the theatres won't look at; and then their troubles begin." + +Young Musgrave smiled superior at Bessie's sentiment and Bessie's +syntax. "There is the railway, and Oxford is on the road. I intend +always to travel first-class," said he. + +Bessie understood him to speak literally. "First-class! Oh, but that is +too grand! In the _Lives_ they never have much money. Some are awfully +poor--_starving_: Savage was, and Chatterton and Otway." + +"Shabby, disreputable vagabonds!" answered young Musgrave lightly. + +"And Samuel Johnson and ever so many more," continued Bessie, pleading +his sympathy. + +"There is no honor in misery; it is picturesque to read about, but it is +a sorry state in reality to be very poor. Some poets have been scamps. I +shall not start as the prodigal son, Bessie, for I love not swinish +company nor diet of husks." + +"The prodigal came home to his father, Harry." + +"So he did, but I have my doubts whether he stayed." + +There was a silence. Bessie had always believed in the prodigal as a +good son after his repentance. Any liberty of speculation as concerning +Scripture gave her pause; it was a new thing at Beechhurst and at Brook. + +Young Musgrave furled over the pages of his book. A sheet of paper, +written, interlined, blotted with erasures, flew out. He laid a quick +hand upon it; not so quick, however, but that Bessie had caught sight of +verses--verses of his own, too. She entreated him to read them. He +excused himself. "Do, Harry; please do," she urged, but he was +inexorable. He had read her many a fine composition before--many a poem +crowded with noble words and lofty sentiments; but for once he was +reserved, firm, secret. He told Bessie that she would not admire this +last effort of his muse: it was a parody, an imitation of the Greek. + +"Girls have no relish for humor: they don't understand it. It is sheer +profanity to them," said he. Let him show her his prize-books instead. + +Bessie was too humble towards Harry to be huffed. She admired the +prize-books, then changed the subject, and spoke of Lady Latimer, +inquiring if he had availed himself of her invitation yet to call at +Fairfield. + +"No," said he, "I have not called at Fairfield. What business can her +ladyship have with me? I don't understand her royal message. Little +Christie went to Fairfield with a portfolio of sketches in obedience to +a summons of that sort, and was bidden to sit down to dinner in the +servants' hall while the portfolio was carried up stairs. Her ladyship +bought a sketch, but the money was no salve for Christie's +mortification. I have nothing to sell. I took warning by my friend, and +did not go." + +Again Bessie was dumb. She blushed, and did not know what to say. She +would not have liked to hear that Harry had been set down to dinner in +the servants' hall at Fairfield, though she had not herself been hurt by +a present of a cheese-cake in the kitchen. She was perfectly aware that +the farmers and upper servants in the great houses did associate as +equals. Evidently the conduct of life required much discretion. + +Less than a year ago young Christie had helped at the painting and +graining of Lady Latimer's house. Somebody, a connoisseur in art, +wandering last autumn in the Forest, had found him making a drawing of +yew trees, had sought him in his home at the wheelwright's, had told him +he was a genius and would do wonders. On the instant young Christie +expected the greatest of all wonders to be done; he expected his friends +and neighbors to believe in him on the strength of the stranger's +prediction. Naturally, they preferred to reserve their judgment. He and +young Musgrave had learnt their letters under the same ferule, though +their paths had diverged since. Some faint reminiscence of companionship +survived in young Christie's memory, and in the absence of a generous +sympathy at home he went to seek it at Brook. A simple, strong +attachment was the result. Young Christie was gentle, vain, sensitive, +easily raised and easily depressed, a slim little fellow--a contrast to +Harry Musgrave in every way. "My friend" each called the other, and +their friendship was a pure joy and satisfaction to them both. Christie +carried everything to Brook--hopes, feelings, fears as well as +work--even his mortification at Fairfield, against a repetition of which +young Musgrave offered counsel, wisdom of the ancients. + +"It is art you are in pursuit of, not pomps and vanities? Then keep +clear of Fairfield. The first thing for success in imaginative work is a +soul unruffled: what manner of work could you do to-day? You will never +paint a stroke the better for anything Lady Latimer can do for you; but +lay yourself open to the chafe and fret of her patronage now, and you +are done for. Ten, twenty years hence, she will be harmless, because you +will have the confidence of a name." + +"And she will remember that she bought my first sketch; she will say she +made me," said young Christie. + +"You will not care then: everybody knows that a man makes himself. +Phipps calls her vain-glorious; Carnegie calls her the very core of +goodness. In either case you don't need her. There is only one patron +for men of art and literature in these days, and that is the General +Public. The times are gone by for waiting in Chesterfield's ante-room +and hiding behind Cave's screen." + +Harry recited all this for Bessie's instruction. Bessie was convinced +that he had spoken judiciously: the safest way to avoid a fall is not to +be in too much haste to climb. It is more consistent with self-respect +for genius in low estate to defend its independence against the assaults +of rich patrons, seeking appendages to their glory, than to accept their +benefits, and complain that they are given with insolence. It is an +evident fact that the possessors of rank and money value themselves as +of more consequence than those whom God has endowed with other gifts and +not with these. Platitudes reveal themselves to the young as novel and +striking truths. Bessie ruminated these in profound silence. Harry +offered her a penny for her thoughts. + +"I was thinking," said she, with a sudden revelation of the practical, +"that young Christie will suffer a great deal in his way through the +world if he stumble at such common kindness as Lady Latimer's." And then +she told the story of the cheese-cake. "I beheld my lady then as a +remote and exalted sphere, where never foot of mine would come. I have +entered it since by reason of belonging to an old house of gentry, and I +find that I can breathe there. So may he some day, when he has earned a +title to it, but he would be very uncomfortable there now." + +"And so may I some day, when I have earned a title to it, but I should +be very uncomfortable there now. Meanwhile we have souls above +cheese-cakes, and don't choose to bear my lady's patronage." + +Bessie felt that she was being laughed at. She grew angry, and poured +out her sentiments hot: "There is a difference between you and young +Christie; you know quite well that there is, Harry. No, I sha'n't +explain what it consists in. Lady Latimer meant to encourage him: to see +that she thinks well enough of his sketches to buy one may influence +other people to buy them. He can't live on air; and if he is to be a +painter he must study. You are not going to rise in the world without +working? If you went to her house, she would make you acquainted with +people it might be good for you to know: it is just whether you like +that sort of thing or not. I don't; I am happier at home. But men don't +want to keep at home." + +"_Already_, Bessie!" cried Harry in a rallying, reproachful tone. + +"Already _what_, Harry? I am not giving myself airs, if that is what you +mean," said she blushing. + +Harry shook his head, but only half in earnest: "You are, Bessie. You +are pretending to have opinions on things that you had never thought of +a month ago. Give you a year amongst your grandees, and you will hold +yourself above us all." + +Tears filled Bessie's eyes. She was very much hurt; she did not believe +that Harry could have misunderstood her so. "I shall never hold myself +above anybody that I was fond of when I was little; they are more likely +to forget me when I am out of sight. They have others to love." Bessie +spoke in haste and excitement. She meant neither to defend herself nor +to complain, but her voice imported a little pathos and tragedy into the +scene. Young Musgrave instantly repented and offered atonement. +"Besides," Bessie rather inconsequently ran on, "I am very fond of Lady +Latimer; she has nobody of her own, so she tries to make a family in the +world at large." + +"All right, Bessie--then she shall adopt you. Only don't be cross, +little goosey. Let us go into the garden." Young Musgrave made such a +burlesque of his remorse that Bessie, wounded but skin-deep, was fain to +laugh too and be friends again. And thereupon they went forth together +into the bosky old garden. + +What a pleasant wilderness that old garden was, even in its neglected +beauty! Whoever planted it loved open spaces, turf, and trees of foreign +race; for there were some rare cedars, full-grown, straight, and +stately, with feathered branches sweeping the grass, and strange shrubs +that were masses of blossom and fountains of sweet odors. The +flower-borders had run to waste; only a few impoverished roses tossed +their blushing fragrance into the air, and a few low-growing, +old-fashioned things made shift to live amongst the weeds. But the +prettiest bit of all was the verdant natural slope, below which ran the +brook that gave the village and the manor their names. The Forest is not +a land of merry running waters, but little tranquil streams meander +hither and thither, making cool its shades. Three superb beeches laved +their silken leaves in the shallow flood, and amongst their roots were +rustic seats all sheltered from sun and wind. Here had Harry Musgrave +and Bessie Fairfax sat many a summer afternoon, their heads over one +poetry-book, reading, whispering, drawing--lovers in a way, though they +never talked of love. + +"Shall we two ever walk together in this garden again, Harry?" said +Bessie, breaking a sentimental silence with a sigh as she gazed at the +sun-dimmed horizon. + +"Many a time, I hope. I'll tell you my ambition." Young Musgrave spoke +with vivacity; his eyes sparkled. "Listen, Bessie, and don't be +astonished. I mean some day to buy Brook, and come to live here. That is +my ambition." + +Bessie was overawed. To buy Brook was a project too vast for her +imagination. The traditions of its ancient glories still hung about it, +and the proprietor, even in his poverty, was a power in the country. +Harry proceeded with the confession of his day-dreams: "I shall pull +down the house--if it does not fall down of itself before--and build it +up again on the original plan, for I admire not all things new. With the +garden replanted and the fine old trees left, it will be a paradise--as +much of a paradise as any modern Adam can desire. And Bessie shall be my +Eve." + +"You will see so many Eves between now and then, Harry, that you will +have forgotten me," cried Bessie. + +Harry rejoined: "You are quite as likely to be carried away by a bluff +Woldshire squire as I am to fall captive to other Eves." + +"You know, Harry, I shall always be fondest of you. We have been like +real cousins. But won't you be growing rather old before you are rich +enough to buy Brook?" + +"If I am, you will be growing rather old too, Bessie. What do you call +old--thirty?" + +"Yes. Do you mean to put off life till you are thirty?" + +"No. I mean to work and play every day as it comes. But one must have +some great events to look forward to. My visions are of being master of +Brook and of marrying Bessie. One without the other would be only half a +good fortune." + +"Do you care so much for me as that, Harry? I was afraid you cared for +little Christie more than for me now." + +"Don't be jealous of little Christie, Bessie. Surely I can like you +both. There are things a girl does not understand. You belong to me as +my father and mother do. I have told you everything. I have not told +anybody but you what I intend about Brook--not even my mother. I want it +to be our secret." + +"So it shall, Harry. You'll see how I can keep it," cried Bessie +delighted. + +"I trust you, because I know if I make a breakdown you will not change. +When I missed the English verse-prize last year (you remember, Bessie?) +I had made so sure of it that I could hardly show my face at home. +Mother was disappointed, but you just snuggled up to me and said, 'Never +mind, Harry, I love you;' and you did not care whether I had a prize or +none. And that was comfort. I made up my mind at that minute what I +should do." + +"Dear old Harry! I am sure your verses were the best, far away," was +Bessie's response; and then she begged to hear more of what her comrade +meant to do. + +Harry did not want much entreating. His schemes could hardly be called +castles in the air, so much of the solid and reasonable was there in the +design of them. He had no expectation of success by wishing, and no +trust in strokes of luck. Life is a race, and a harder race than ever. +Nobody achieves great things without great labors and often great +sacrifices. "The labor I shall not mind; the sacrifices I shall make +pay." Harry was getting out of Bessie's depth now; a little more of +poetry and romance in his views would have brought them nearer to the +level of her comprehension. Then he talked to her of his school, of the +old doctor, that great man, of his schoolfellows, of his rivals whom he +had distanced--not a depreciatory word of any of them. "I don't believe +in luck for myself," he said. "But there is a sort of better and worse +fortune amongst men, independent of merit. It was the narrowest shave +between me and Fordyce. I would not have given sixpence for my chance of +the scholarship against his, yet I won it. He is a good fellow, Fordyce: +he came up and shook hands as if he had won. That was just what I +wanted: I felt so happy! Now I shall go to Oxford; in a year or two I +shall have pupils, and who knows but I may gain a fellowship? I shall +take you to Oxford, Bessie, when the time comes." + +Bessie was as proud and as pleased in this indefinite prospect as if she +were bidden to pack up and start to-morrow. Harry went on to tell her +what Mr. Moxon had told him, how Oxford is one of the most beautiful of +cities, and one of the most famous and ancient seats of learning in the +world (which she knew from her geography-book), and there, under the +beeches, with the slow ripple at their feet, they sat happy as king and +queen in a fairy-tale, until the shadow of Mrs. Musgrave came gliding +over the grass, and her clear caressing voice broke on their ears: +"Children, children, are you never coming to tea? We have called you +from the window twice. And young Christie is here." + + * * * * * + +Young Christie came forward with a bow and a blush to shake hands. He +had dressed himself for Sunday to come to Brook. He had an ingenuous +face, but plain in feature. The perceptive faculties were heavily +developed, and his eyes were fine; and his mouth and chin suggested a +firmness of character. + +Mr. Musgrave, who was absent at dinner, was now come home tired from +Hampton. He leant back in his chair and held out a brown hand to Bessie, +who took it, and a kiss with it, as part of the regular ceremony of +greeting. She slipped into the chair set for her beside him, and was +quite at home, for Bessie was a favorite in the same degree at Brook as +Harry was at Beechhurst. Young Christie sat next to his friend and +opposite to Bessie. They had many things to say to each other, and +Bessie compared them in her own mind silently. Harry was serene and +quiet; Christie's color came and went with the animation of his talk. +Harry's hands had the sunburnt hue of going ungloved, but they were the +hands of a young man devoted to scholarly pursuits; Christie's were +stained with his trade, which he practised of necessity still, wooing +art only in his bye-hours. Harry's speech was decisive and simple; +Christie's was hesitating and a little fine, a little over-careful. He +was self-conscious, and as he talked he watched who listened, his +restless eyes glancing often towards Bessie. But this had a twofold +meaning, for while he talked of other things his faculty of observation +was at work; it was always at work as an undercurrent. + +Loveliness of color had a perpetual fascination for him. He was +considering the tints in Bessie's hair and in the delicate, downy +rose-oval of her cheeks, and the effect upon them of the sunshine +flickering through the vine leaves. When the after-glow was red in the +west, the dark green cloth of the window-curtain, faded to purple and +orange, made a rich background for her fair head, and he beheld in his +fancy a picture that some day he would reproduce. On the tea-table he +had laid down a twig of maple, the leaves of which were curiously +crenated by some insect, and with it a clump of moss, and a stone +speckled in delicious scarlet and tawny patches of lichen-growth--bits +of Nature and beauty in which he saw more than others see, and had +picked up in his walk by Great-Ash Ford through the Forest to Brook. + +"I live in hope of some lucky accident to give me the leisure and +opportunity for study; till then I must stick to my mechanical trade of +painting and graining," he was saying while his eyes roved about +Bessie's face, and his fingers toyed first with the twig of maple and +then with the pearled moss. "My father thinks scorn of art for a living, +and predicts me repentance and starvation. I tell him we shall see; one +must not expect to be a prophet in one's own country. But I am half +promised a commission at the Hampton Theatre--a new drop-scene. My +sketch is approved--it is a Forest view. The decision must come soon." + +Everybody present wished the young fellow success. "Though whether you +have success or not you will have a share of happiness, because you are +a dear lover of Nature, and Nature never lets her lovers go unrewarded," +said Mrs. Musgrave kindly. + +"Ah! but I shall not be satisfied with her obscure favors," cried little +Christie airily. + +"You must have applause: I don't think I care for applause," said young +Musgrave; and he cut Bessie a slice of cake. + +Bessie proceeded to munch it with much gravity and enjoyment--Harry's +mother made excellent cakes--and the father of the house, smiling at her +serious absorption, patted her on the shoulder and said, "And what does +Bessie Fairfax care for?" + +"Only to be loved," says Bessie without a thought. + +"And that is what you will be, for love's a gift," rejoined Mr. +Musgrave. "These skip-jacks who talk of setting the world on fire will +be lucky if they make only blaze enough to warm themselves." + +"Ay, indeed--and getting rich. Talk's cheap, but it takes a deal of +money to buy land," said his wife, who had a shrewd inkling of her son's +ambition, though he had not confessed it to her. "Young folks little +think of the chances and changes of this mortal life, or it's a blessing +they'd seek before anything else." + +Bessie's face clouded at a word of changes. "Don't fret, Bessie, we'll +none of us forget you," said the kind father. But this was too much for +her tender heart. She pushed back her chair and ran out of the room. For +the last hour the tears had been very near her eyes, and now they +overflowed. Mrs. Musgrave followed to comfort her. + +"To go all amongst strangers!" sobbed Bessie; and her philosophy quite +failed her when that prospect recurred in its dreadful blankness. +Happily, the time of night did not allow of long lamentation. Presently +Harry called at the stair's foot that it was seven o'clock. And she +kissed his mother and bade Brook good-bye. + +The walk home was through the Forest, between twilight and moonlight. +The young men talked and Bessie was silent. She had no favor towards +young Christie previously, but she liked his talk to-night and his +devotion to Harry Musgrave, and she enrolled him henceforward amongst +those friends and acquaintances of her happy childhood at Beechhurst +concerning whom inquiries were to be made in writing home when she was +far away. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_FAREWELL TO THE FOREST._ + + +A few days after his meeting with Bessie Fairfax at Brook, young +Christie left at the doctor's door a neat, thin parcel addressed to her +with his respects. Lady Latimer and Mrs. Wiley, who were still +interesting themselves in her affairs, were with Mrs. Carnegie at the +time, giving her some instructions in Bessie's behalf. Mrs. Carnegie was +rather bothered than helped by their counsels, but she did not +discourage them, because of the advantage to Bessie of having their +countenance and example. Bessie, sitting apart at the farther side of +the round table, untied the string and unfolded the silver paper. Then +there was a blush, a smile, a cry of pleasure. At what? At a picture of +herself that little Christie had painted, and begged to make an offering +of. It was handed round for the inspection of the company. + +"A slight thing," said Mrs. Wiley with a negligent glance. "Young +Christie fishes with sprats to catch whales, as Askew told him +yesterday. He brought his portfolio and a drawing of the church to show, +but we did not buy anything. We are afraid that he will turn out a sad, +idle fellow, going dawdling about instead of keeping to his trade. His +father is much grieved." + +"This is sketchy, but full of spirit," said Lady Latimer, holding the +drawing at arm's length to admire. + +"It is life itself! We must hear what your father says to it, Bessie," +Mrs. Carnegie added in a pleased voice. + +"If her father does not buy it, I will. It is a charming little +picture," said my lady. + +Bessie was gratified, but she hoped her father would not let anybody +else possess it. + +"A matter of a guinea, and it will be well paid for," said the rector's +wife. + +No one made any rejoinder, but Mr. Carnegie gave the aspiring artist +five guineas (he would not have it as a gift, which little Christie +meant), and plenty of verbal encouragement besides. Lady Latimer further +invited him to paint her little friends, Dora and Dandy. He accepted the +commission, and fulfilled it with effort and painstaking, but not with +such signal success as his portrait of Bessie. That was an inspiration. +The doctor hung up the picture in the dining-room for company every day +in her absence, and promised that it should keep her place for her in +all their hearts and memories until she came home again. + +There are not many more events to chronicle until the great event of +Bessie's farewell to Beechhurst. She gave a tea-party to her friends in +the Forest, a picnic tea-party at Great-Ash Ford; and on a fine morning, +when the air blew fresh from the sea, she and her handsome new baggage +were packed, with young Musgrave, into the back seat of the doctor's +chaise, the doctor sitting in front with his man to drive. Their +destination was Hampton, to take the boat for Havre. The man was to +return home with the chaise in the evening. The doctor was going on to +Caen, to deliver his dear little girl safely at school, and Harry was +going with them for a holiday. All the Carnegie children and their +mother, the servants and the house-dog, were out in the road to bid +Bessie a last good-bye; the rector and his wife were watching over the +hedge; and Miss Buff panted up the hill at the last moment, with fat +tears running down her cheeks. She had barely time for a word, Mr. +Carnegie always cutting short leave-takings. Bessie's nose was pink with +tears and her eyes glittered, but she was in good heart. She looked +behind her as long as she could see her mother, and Jack and Willie +coursing after the chaise with damp pocket-handkerchiefs a-flutter; and +then she turned her face the way she was going, and said with a shudder, +"It is a beautiful, sunny morning, but for all that it is cold." + +"Have my coat-sleeve, Bessie," suggested Harry, and they both laughed, +then became quiet, then merry. + +About two miles out of Hampton the travellers overtook little Christie +making the road fly behind him as he marched apace, a knapsack at his +back and his chin in the air. + +"Whither away so fast, young man?" shouted the doctor, hailing him. + +"To Hampton Theatre," shouted Christie back again, and he flourished his +hat round his head. Harry Musgrave repeated the triumphant gesture with +a loud hurrah. The artist that was to be had got that commission for the +new drop-scene at the theatre. His summons had come by this morning's +post. + +The toil-worn, dusty little figure was long in sight, for now the road +ran in a direct line. Bessie wished they could have given him a lift on +his journey. Harry Musgrave continued to look behind, but he said +nothing. It is some men's fortune to ride cock-horse, it is some other +men's to trudge afoot; but neither is the lot of the first to be envied, +nor the lot of the last to be deplored. Such would probably have been +his philosophy if he had spoken. Bessie, regarding externals only, and +judging of things as they seemed, felt pained by the outward signs of +inequality. + +In point of fact, little Christie was the happiest of the three at that +moment. According to his own belief, he was just about to lay hold of +the key that would open for him the outer door of the Temple of Fame. +After that blessed drop-scene that he was on his way to execute at +Hampton, never more would he return to his mechanical painting and +graining. It was an epoch that they all dated from, this shining day of +September, when Bessie Fairfax bade farewell to the Forest, and little +Christie set out on his career of honor with a knapsack on his back and +seven guineas in his pocket. As for Harry Musgrave, his leading-strings +were broken before, and he was in some sort a citizen of the world +already. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_BESSIE GOES INTO EXILE._ + + +The rapid action and variety of the next few days were ever after like a +dream to Bessie Fairfax. A tiring day in Hampton town, a hurried walk to +the docks in the sunset, the gorgeous autumnal sunset that flushed the +water like fire; a splendid hour in the river, ships coming up full +sail, and twilight down to the sea; a long, deep sleep. Then sunrise on +rolling green waves, low cliffs, headlands of France; a vast turmoil, +hubbub, and confusion of tongues; a brief excursion into Havre, by gay +shops to gayer gardens, and breakfast in the gayest of glass-houses. +Then embarkation on board the boat for Caen; a gentle sea-rocking; +soldiers, men in blouses, women in various patterns of caps; the mouth +of the Orne; fringes on the coast of fashionable resort for sea-bathers. +Miles up the stream, dreary, dreary; poplars leaning aslant from the +wind, low mud-banks, beds of osiers, reeds, rushes, willows; poplars +standing erect as a regiment in line, as many regiments, a gray monotony +of poplars; the tide flowing higher, laving the reeds, the sallows, all +pallid with mist and soft driving rain. A gleam of sun on a lawn, on +roses, on a conical red roof; orchards, houses here and there, with +shutters closed, and the afternoon sun hot upon them; acres of +market-garden, artichokes, flat fields, a bridge, rushy ditches, tall +array of poplars repeated and continued endlessly. + +"I think," said Bessie, "I shall hate a poplar as long as I live!" + +Mr. Carnegie agreed that the scenery was not enchanting. Beautiful +France is not to compare with the beautiful Forest. Harry Musgrave was +in no haste with his opinion; he was looking out for Caen, that ancient +and famous town of the Norman duke who conquered England. He had been +reading up the guide-book and musing over history, while Bessie had been +letting the poplars weigh her mind down to the brink of despondency. + +A repetition of the noisy landing at Havre, despatch of baggage to +Madame Fournier's, everybody's heart failing for fear of that august, +unknown lady. A sudden resolution on the doctor's part to delay the +dread moment of consigning Bessie to the school-mistress until evening, +and a descent on Thunby's hotel. A walk down the Rue St. Jean to the +Place St. Pierre, and by the way a glimpse, through an open door in a +venerable gateway, of a gravelled court-yard planted with sycamores and +surrounded by lofty walls, draped to the summit with vines and ivy; in +the distance an arcade with vistas of garden beyond lying drowsy in the +sunshine, the angle of a large mansion, and fluttering lilac wreaths of +wisteria over the portal. + +"If this is Madame Fournier's school, it is a hushed little world," said +the doctor. + +Bessie beheld it with awe. There was a solemn picturesqueness in the +prospect that daunted her imagination. + +Harry Musgrave referred to his guide-book: "Ah, I thought so--this is +the place. Bessie, Charlotte Corday lived here." + +Above the rickety gateway were two rickety windows. At those windows +Charlotte might have sat over her copy of Plutarch's "Lives," a +ruminating republican in white muslin, before the Revolution, or have +gazed at the sombre church of St. Jean across the street, in the happier +days before she despised going to old-fashioned worship. Bessie looked +up at them more awed than ever. "I hope her ghost does not haunt the +house. Come away, Harry," she whispered. + +Harry laughed at her superstition. They went forward under the irregular +peaked houses, stunned at intervals by side-gusts of evil odor, till +they came to the place and church of St. Pierre. The market-women in +white-winged caps, who had been sitting at the receipt of custom since +morning surrounded by heaps of glowing fruit and flowers, were now +vociferously gathering up their fragments, their waifs and strays and +remnants, to go home. The men were harnessing their horses, filling +their carts. It was all a clamorous, sunny, odd sort of picture amidst +the quaint and ancient buildings. Then they went into the church, into +the gloom and silence out of the stir. The doctor made the young ones a +sign to hush. There were women on their knees, and on the steps of the +altar a priest of dignified aspect, and a file of acolytes, awfully +ugly, the very refuse of the species--all but one, who was a saint for +beauty of countenance and devoutness of mien. Harry glanced at him and +his companions as if they were beings of a strange and mysterious race; +and the numerous votive offerings to "Our Lady of La Salette" and +elsewhere he eyed askance with the expression of a very sound Protestant +indeed. The lovely luxuriant architecture, the foliated carvings, were +dim in the evening light. A young sculptor, who was engaged in the work +of restoring some of these rich carvings, came down from his perch while +the strangers stood to admire them. + +That night by nine o'clock Bessie Fairfax was in the _dortoir_ at Madame +Fournier's--a chamber of six windows and twenty beds, narrow, hard, +white, and, except her own and one other, empty. By whose advice it was +that she was sent to school a week in advance of the opening she never +knew. But there she was in the wilderness of a house, with only a +dejected English teacher suffering from chronic face-ache, and another +scholar, younger than herself, for company. The great madame was still +absent at Bayeux, spending the vacation with her uncle the canon. + +It was a moonlight night, and the jalousies looking upon the garden were +not closed. Bessie was neither timid nor grievous, but she was +desperately wide-awake. The formality of receiving her and showing her +to bed had been very briefly despatched. It seemed as if she had been +left at the door like a parcel, conveyed up stairs, and put away. +Beechhurst was a thousand miles off, and yesterday a hundred years ago! +The doctor and Harry Musgrave could hardly have walked back to Thunby's +hotel before she and her new comrade were in their little beds. Now, +indeed, was the Rubicon passed, and Bessie Fairfax committed to all the +vicissitudes of exile. She realized the beginning thereof when she +stretched her tired limbs on her unyielding mattress of straw, and +recalled her dear little warm nest under the eaves at home. + +Presently, from a remote couch spoke her one companion, "I am sitting up +on end. What are you doing?" + +"Nothing. Lying down and staring at the moon," replied Bessie, and +turned her eyes in the direction of the voice. + +The figure sitting up on end was distinctly visible. It was clasping +its knees, its long hair flowed down its back, and its face was steadily +addressed to the window at the foot of its bed. "Do you care to talk?" +asked the queer apparition. + +"I shall not fall asleep for _hours_ yet," said Bessie. + +"Then let us have a good talk." The unconscious quoter of Dr. Johnson +contributed her full share to the colloquy. She told her story, and why +she was at Madame Fournier's: "Father's ship comes from Yarmouth in +Norfolk. It is there we are at home, but he is nearly always at sea--to +and fro to Havre and Caen, to Dunkirk and Bordeaux. It is a fine sailing +ship, the Petrel. When the wind blows I think of father, though he has +weathered many storms. To-night it will be beautiful on the water. I +have often sailed with father." A prodigious sigh closed the paragraph, +and drew from Bessie a query that perhaps she wished she was sailing +with him now? She did, indeed! "He left me here because I was not +well--it is three weeks since; it was the day of the emperor's +_fête_--but I am no stronger yet. I have been left here before--once for +a whole half-year. I hope it won't be so long this time; I do so miss +father! My mother is dead, and he has married another wife. I believe +she wishes I were dead too." + +"Oh no," cried Bessie, much amazed. "I have a mother who is not really +my mother, but she is as good as if she were." + +"Then she is not like mine. Are women all alike? Hush! there is Miss +Foster at the door--_listening_.... She is gone now; she didn't peep +in.... Tell me, do you hear anything vulgar in my speech?" + +"No--it is plain enough." It was a question odd and unexpected, and +Bessie had to think before she answered it. + +Her questioner mistook her reflection for hesitation, and seemed +disappointed. "Ah, but you do," said she, "though you don't like to tell +me so. It is provincial, very provincial, Miss Foster admits.... Next +week, when the young ladies come back, I shall wish myself more than +ever with father." + +"What for? don't you like school?" Bessie was growing deeply interested +in these random revelations. + +"No. How should I? I don't belong to them. Everybody slights me but +madame. Miss Hiloe has set me down as quite _common_. It is so +dreadful!" + +Bessie's heart had begun to beat very hard. "Is it?" said she in a tone +of apprehension. "Do they profess to despise you?" + +"More than that--they _do_ despise me; they don't know how to scorn me +enough. But you are not _common_, so why should you be afraid? My father +is a master-mariner--John Fricker of Great Yarmouth. What is yours?" + +"Oh, mine was a clergyman, but he is long since dead, and my own mother +too. The father and mother who have taken care of me since live at +Beechhurst in the Forest, and _he_ is a doctor. It is my grandfather who +sends me here to school, and he is a country gentleman, a squire. But I +like my common friends best--_far_!" + +"If you have a squire for your grandfather you may speak as you +please--Miss Hiloe will not call you common. Oh, I am shrewd enough: I +know more than I tell. Miss Foster says I have the virtues of my class, +but I have no business at a school like this. She wonders what Madame +Fournier receives me for. Oh, I wish father may come over next month! +Nobody can tell how lonely I feel sometimes. Will you call me Janey?" +Janey's poor little face went down upon her knees, and there was the +sound of sobs. Bessie's tender heart yearned to comfort this misery, and +she would have gone over to administer a kiss, had she not been +peremptorily warned not to risk it: there was the gleam of a light below +the door. When that alarm was past, composure returned to the +master-mariner's little daughter, and Bessie ventured to ask if the +French girls were nice. + +The answer sounded pettish: "There are all sorts in a school like this. +Elise Finckel lives in the Place St. Pierre: they are clock and +watchmakers, the Finckels. Once I went there; then Elise and Miss Hiloe +made friends, and it was good-bye to me! but clanning is forbidden." + +Bessie required enlightening as to what "clanning" meant. The +explanation was diffuse, and branched off into so many anecdotes and +illustrations that in spite of the moonlight, her nerves, her interest, +and her forebodings, Bessie began to yield to the overpowering influence +of sleep. The little comrade, listened to no longer, ceased her prattle +and napped off too. + + * * * * * + +The next sound Bessie Fairfax heard was the irregular clangor of a bell, +and behold it was morning! Some one had been into the _dortoir_ and had +opened a window or two. The warm fragrant breath of sunshine and twitter +of birds entered. + +"So this is being at school in France? What a din!" said Bessie, +stopping her ears and looking for her comrade. + +That strange child was just opening a pair of sleepy eyes and exhorting +herself by name: "Now, Miss Janey Fricker, you will be wise to get up +without more thinking about it, or there will be a bad mark and an +imposition for you, my dear. What a blessing! five dull days yet before +the arrival of the tormentors!" She slipped out upon the floor, +exclaiming how tired she was and how all her bones ached, till Bessie's +heart ached too for pity of the delicate, sensitive morsel of humanity. + +They had soup for breakfast, greasy, flavorless stuff loaded with +vegetables, and bread sour with long keeping. This was terrible to +Bessie. She sipped and put down her spoon, then tried again. Miss +Foster, at the same table, partook of a rough decoction of coffee with +milk, and a little rancid butter on the sour bread toasted. + +After breakfast the two girls were told that they were permitted to go +into the garden. They spent the whole morning there, and there Mr. +Carnegie and Harry Musgrave found Bessie when they came to take their +final leave of her. It was good and brave of the little girl not to +distress them with complaints, for she was awfully hungry, and likely to +be so until her dainty appetite was broken in to French school-fare. Her +few tears did not signify. + +Harry Musgrave said the garden was not so pretty as it appeared from the +street, and the doctor made rueful allusions to convents and prisons, +and was not half satisfied to leave his dear little Bessie there. The +morning sun had gone off the grass. The walls were immensely lofty--the +tallest trees did not overtop them. There was a weedy, weak fountain, a +damp grotto, and two shrines with white images of the Blessed Mary +crowned with gilt stars. + +Miss Foster came into the garden the moment the visitors appeared, +holding one hand against the flannel that enveloped her face. She made +the usual polite speeches of hope, expectation, and promise concerning +the new-comer, and stayed about until the gentlemen went. Then an +inexpressible flatness fell upon Bessie, and she would probably have +wept in earnest, but for the sight of Janey Fricker standing aloof and +gazing at her wistfully for an invitation to draw near. Somebody to +succor was quite in Bessie's way; helpless, timid things felt safe under +covert of her wing. It gave her a vocation at once to have this weak, +ailing little girl seeking to her for protection, and she called her to +come. How gladly Janey came! + +"What were you thinking of just now when I lost my friends?" Bessie +asked her. + +"Oh, of lots of things: I can't tell you of what. Is that your brother?" + +"No, he is a cousin." + +"Are you very fond of him? I wonder what it feels like to have many +people to love? I have no one but father." + +"Harry Musgrave and I have known each other all our lives. And now you +and I are going to be friends." + +"If you don't find somebody you like better, as Elise Finckel did. There +is the bell; it means dinner in ten minutes." Bessie was looking sorry +at her new comrade's suspicion. Janey was quick to see it. "Oh, I have +vexed you about Elise?" cried she in a voice of pleading distress. "When +shall I learn to trust anybody again?" + +Bessie smiled superior. "Very soon, I hope," said she. "You must not +afflict yourself with fancies. I am not vexed; I am only sorry if you +won't trust me. Let us wait and see. I feel a kindness for most people, +and don't need to love one less because I love another more. I promise +to keep a warm place in my heart for you always, you little mite! I have +even taken to Miss Foster because I pity her. She looks so overworked, +and jaded, and poor." + +"It is easy to like Miss Foster when you know her. She keeps her mamma, +and her salary is only twenty-five pounds a year." + +The dinner, to which the girls adjourned at a second summons of the +bell, was as little appetizing as the breakfast had been. There was the +nauseous soup, a morsel of veal, a salad dressed with rank oil, a mess +of sweet curd, and a dish of stewed prunes. After the fiction of dining, +Miss Foster took the two pupils for a walk by the river, where groups of +soldiers under shade of the trees were practising the fife and the drum. +Caen seemed to be full of soldiers, marching and drilling for ever. +Louise, the handsome portress at the school, frankly avowed that she did +not know what the young women of her generation would do for husbands; +the conscription carried away all the finest young men. Janey loved to +watch the soldiers; she loved all manner of shows, and also to tell of +them. She asked Bessie if she would like to hear about the emperor's +_fête_ last month; and when Bessie acquiesced, she began in a discursive +narrative style by which a story can be stretched to almost any length: + +"There was a military mass at St. Etienne's in the morning. I had only +just left father, but Mademoiselle Adelaide took me with her, and a +priest sent us up into the triforium--you understand what the triforium +is? a gallery in the apse looking down on the choir. The triforium at +St. Etienne's is wide enough to drive a coach and four round; at the +Augustines, where we went once to see three sisters take the white veil, +it is quite narrow, and without anything to prevent you falling over--a +dizzy place. But I am forgetting the _fête_.... It was _so_ beautiful +when the doors were thrown open, and the soldiers and flags came +tramping in with the sunshine, and filled the nave! The generals sat +with the mayor and the _prêfet_ in the chancel, ever so grand in their +ribbons and robes and orders. The service was all music and not long: +soldiers don't like long prayers. You will see them go to mass on Sunday +at St. Jean's, opposite the school.... Then at night there was a +procession--such a pandemonium! such a rabble-rout, with music and +shouting, soldiers marching at the double, carrying blazing torches, and +a cloud of paper lanterns that caught fire and flared out. We could hear +the discordant riot ever so far off, and when the mob came up our street +again, almost in the dark, I covered my ears. Of all horrible sounds, a +mob of excited Frenchmen can make the worst. The wind in a storm at sea +is nothing to it." + +There was a man gathering peaches from the sunny wall of a garden-house +by the river. Janey finished her tale, and remarked that here fruit +could be bought. Bessie, rich in the possession of a pocketful of money, +was most truly glad to hear it, and a great feast of fruit ensued, with +accompaniments of _galette_ and new milk. Then the walk was continued in +a circuit which brought them back to the school through the town. The +return was followed by a collation of thick bread and butter and thin +tea; then by a little reading aloud in Miss Foster's holiday apartment, +and then by the _dortoir_, and another good talk in the moonlight until +sleep overwhelmed the talkers. Bessie dropt off with the thought in her +mind that her father and dear Harry Musgrave must be just about going on +board the vessel at Havre that was to carry them to Hampton, and that +when she woke up in the morning they would be on English soil once more, +and riding home to Beechhurst through the dewy glades of the Forest.... + +This account of twenty-four hours will stand for the whole of that first +week of Bessie's exile. Only the walks of an afternoon were varied. In +company with dull, neuralgic Miss Foster the two pupils visited the +famous stone-quarries above the town, out of which so many grand +churches have been built; they compassed the shaded Cours; they +investigated the museum, and Bessie was introduced to the pretty +portrait of Charlotte Corday, in a simple cross-over white gown, a blue +sash and mob-cap. Afterward she was made acquainted with a lady of +royalist partialities, whose mother had actually known the heroine, and +had lived through the terrible days of the Terror. Her tradition was +that the portrait of Charlotte was imaginary, and, as to her beauty, +delusive, and that the tragical young lady's moving passion was a +passion for notoriety. Bessie wondered and doubted, and began to think +history a most interesting study. + +For another "treat," as Janey Fricker called it, they went on the Sunday +to drink tea with Miss Foster at her mother's. Mrs. Foster was a widow +with ideas of gentility in poverty. She was a chirping, bird-like little +woman, and lived in a room as trellised as a bird-cage. The house was on +the site of the old ramparts, and the garden sloped to the _fosse_. A +magnolia blossomed in it, and delicious pears, of the sort called "Bon +chrêtiens," ripened on gnarled trees. This week was, in fact, a +beautiful little prelude to school life, if Bessie had but known it. But +her appreciation of its simple pleasures came later, when they were for +ever past. She remembered then, with a sort of remorse, laughing at +Janey's notion of a "treat." Everything goes by comparison. At this time +Bessie had no experience of what it is to live by inelastic rule and +rote, to be ailing and unhappy, alone in a crowd and neglected. Janey +believed in Mrs. Foster's sun-baked little garden as a veritable pattern +of Eden, but Bessie knew the Forest, she knew Fairfield, and almost +despised that mingled patch of beauty and usefulness, of sweet odors and +onions, for Mrs. Foster grew potherbs and vegetables amongst her +flowers. + +Thus Bessie's first week of exile got over, and except for a sense of +being hungry now and then, she did not find herself so very miserable +after all. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_SCHOOL-DAYS AT CAEN._ + + +One morning Bessie Fairfax rose to a new sensation. "To-day the classes +open, and there is an end of treats," cried Janey Fricker with a +despairing resignation. "You will soon see the day-scholars, and by +degrees the boarders will arrive. Madame was to come late last night, +and the next news will be of Miss Hiloe. Perhaps they will appear +to-morrow. Heigh-ho!" + +"You are not to care for Miss Hiloe; I shall stand up for you. I have no +notion of tyrants," said Bessie in a spirited way. But her feelings were +very mixed, very far from comfortable. This morning it seemed more than +ever cruel to have sent her to school at her age, ignorant as she was of +school ways. She shuddered in anticipation of the dreadful moment when +it would be publicly revealed that she could neither play on the piano +nor speak a word of French. Her deficiencies had been confided to Janey +in a shy, shamefaced way, and Janey, who could chatter fluently in +French and play ten tunes at least, had betrayed amazement. Afterward +she had given consolation. There was one boarder who made no pretence of +learning music, and several day-scholars; of course, being French, they +spoke French, but not a girl of them all, not madame herself, could +frame three consecutive sentences in English to be understood. + +In the novelty of the situation Janey was patroness for the day. Madame +Fournier had to be encountered after breakfast, and proved to be a +perfectly small lady, of most intelligent countenance and kind +conciliatory speech. She kissed Janey on both cheeks, and bent a +penetrating pair of brown eyes on Bessie's face, which looked intensely +proud in her blushing shyness. Madame had received from Mrs. Wiley (a +former pupil and temporary teacher) instructions that Bessie's education +and training had been of the most desultory kind, and that it was +imperatively necessary to remedy her deficiencies, and give her a +veneering of cultivation and a polish to fit her for the station of life +to which she was called. Madame was able to judge for herself in such +matters. Bessie impressed her favorably, and no humiliation was +inflicted on her even as touching her ignorance of French and the piano. +It was decreed that as Bessie professed no enthusiasm for music, it +would be wasting time that might be more profitably employed to teach +her; and a recommendation to the considerate indulgence of Mademoiselle +Adelaide, who was in charge of the junior class, saved her from huffs +and ridicule while going through the preliminary paces of French. + +At recreation-time in the garden Janey ran up to ask how she had got on. +"_J'ai, tu as, il a_," said Bessie, and laughed with radiant audacity. +Her phantoms were already vanishing into thin air. + +Not many French girls were yet present. The next noon-day they were +doubled. By Saturday all were come, and answered to their names when the +roll was called, the great and dreadful Miss Hiloe amongst them. They +were two, Mademoiselle Ada and Mademoiselle Ellen. The younger sister +was a cipher--an echo of the elder, and an example of how she ought to +be worshipped. Mademoiselle Ada would be a personage wherever she was. +Already her _rôle_ in the world was adopted. She had a pale Greek face, +a lofty look, and a proud spirit. She was not rude to those who paid +her the homage that was her due--she was, indeed, helpful and +patronizing to the humble--but for a small Mordecai like Janey Fricker +she had nothing but insolence and rough words. Janey would not bow down +to her; in her own way Janey was as stubborn and proud as her tyrant, +but she was not as strong. She was a waif by herself, and Mademoiselle +Ada was obeyed, served, and honored by a large following of admirers. +Bessie Fairfax did not feel drawn to enroll herself amongst them, and +before the classes had been a month assembled she had rejoiced the heart +of the master-mariner's little daughter with many warm, affectionate +assurances that there was no one else in all the school that she loved +so well as herself. + +By degrees, and very quick degrees, Bessie's tremors for how she should +succeed at school wore off. What fantastic distresses she would have +been saved if she had known beforehand that she possessed a gift of +beauty, more precious in the sight of girls than the first place in the +first class, than the utmost eloquence of tongues, and the most +brilliant execution on the piano! It came early to be disputed whether +Mademoiselle Ada or Mademoiselle Bessie was the _belle des belles_; and +Bessie, too, soon had her court of devoted partisans, who extolled her +fair roseate complexion, blue eyes, and golden hair as lovelier far than +Mademoiselle Ada's cold, severe perfection of feature. Bessie took their +praises very coolly, and learnt her verbs, wrote her _dictées_, and +labored at her _thêmes_ with the solid perseverance of a girl who has +her charms to acquire. The Miss Hiloes were not unwilling to be on good +terms with her, but that, she told them, was impossible while they were +so ostentatiously discourteous to her friend, Janey Fricker. When to her +armor of beauty Bessie added the weapon of fearless, incisive speech, +the risk of affronts was much abated. Mr. Carnegie had prophesied wisely +when he said for his wife's consolation that character tells more in the +long-run than talking French or playing on the piano. Her companions +might like Bessie Fairfax, or they might let liking alone, but very few +would venture a second time on ill-natured demonstrations either towards +herself or towards any one she protected. + +Bessie's position in the community was established when the tug of work +began. Her health and complexion triumphed over the coarse, hard fare; +her habits of industry made application easy; but the dulness and +monotony were sickening to her, the routine and confinement were hateful +yoke and bondage. Saving one march on Sunday to the Temple under Miss +Foster's escort, she went nowhere beyond the garden for weeks together. +Both French and English girls were in the same case, unless some friend +residing in the town or visiting it obtained leave to take them out. And +nobody came for Bessie. That she should go home to Beechhurst for a +Christmas holiday she had taken for granted; and while abiding the +narrow discipline, and toiling at her unaccustomed tasks with +conscientious diligence, that flattering anticipation made sunshine in +the distance. Every falling leaf, every chill breath of advancing +winter, brought it nearer. Janey and she used to talk of it half their +recreation-time--by the stagnant, weedy fountain in the garden at noon, +and in the twilight windows of the _classe_, when thoughts of the absent +are sweetest. For the Petrel had not come into port at Caen since the +autumn, and Janey was still left at school in daily expectation and +uncertainty. + +"I am only sorry, Janey, that you are not sure of going home too," said +Bessie, one day, commiserating her. + +"If I am not sailing with father I would rather be here. _I_ am not so +lonely since you came," responded Janey. + +Then Bessie dilated on the pleasantness of the doctor's house, the +excellent kindness of her father and mother, the goodness of the boys, +the rejoicing there would be at her return, both amongst friends at +Beechhurst and friends at Brook. Each day, after she had indulged her +memory and imagination in this strain, her heart swelled with loving +expectancy, and when the recess was spoken of as beginning "next week," +she could hardly contain herself for joy. + +What a cruel pity that such natural delightsome hopes must all collapse, +all fall to the ground! It was ruled by Mr. Fairfax that his +granddaughter had been absent so short a time that she need not go to +England this winter season. Came a letter from Mrs. Carnegie to express +the infinite disappointment at home. And there an end. + +"I cried for three days," Bessie afterward confessed. "It seemed that +there never could befall me such another misery." + +It was indeed terrible. In a day the big house was empty of scholars. +Madame Fournier adjourned to Bayeux. Miss Foster went to her mother. The +masters, the other teachers disappeared, all except Mademoiselle +Adelaide, who was to stay in charge of the two girls for a fortnight, +and then to resign her office for the same period to Miss Foster. There +was a month of this heartless solitude before Bessie and Janey. +Mademoiselle Adelaide bemoaned herself as their jailer, as much in +prison as they. They had good grounds of complaint. A deserted school at +Christmas-time is not a cheerful place. + +But there was compensation preparing for Bessie. + + * * * * * + +"And when does Bessie Fairfax come?" was almost the first question of +Harry Musgrave when he arrived from Oxford. + +"Bessie is not to come at all," was the answer. + +What was that for? He proceeded to an investigation. There was a streak +of lively, strong perversity in Harry Musgrave. Remarks had been passed +on his accompanying Mr. Carnegie when he conveyed Bessie to +school--quite uncalled-for remarks, which had originated at Fairfield +and the rectory. The impertinence of them roused Harry's temper, and, +boy-like, he instantly resolved that if his dear little Bessie was kept +away from home and punished on his account, he would give her meddlesome +friends something to talk about by going to Caen again and seeing her in +spite of them. He made out with clearness enough to satisfy his +conscience that Lady Latimer and Mrs. Wiley gave themselves unnecessary +anxiety about Mr. Fairfax's granddaughter, and that he was perfectly +justified in circumventing their cautious tactics. He did not speak of +his intention to the Carnegies, lest he should meet with a remonstrance +that he would be forced to yield to; but he told his sympathizing mother +that he was going to spend five pounds of his pocket-money in a run +across to Normandy to see Bessie Fairfax. Mrs. Musgrave asked if it was +quite wise, quite kind, for Bessie's sake. He was sure that Bessie would +be glad, and he did not care who was vexed. + +Harry Musgrave gave himself no leisure to reconsider the matter, but +went off to Hampton, to Havre, to Caen, with the lightest heart and most +buoyant spirit in the world. He put up at Thunby's, and in the frosty +sunshine of the next morning marched with the airs and sensations of a +lover in mischief to the Rue St. Jean. Louise, that sage portress, +recognized the bold young cousin of the English _belle des belles_, and +announced him to Mademoiselle Adelaide. After a parley Bessie was +permitted to receive him, to go out with him, to be as happy as three +days were long. Harry told her how and why he had come, and Bessie was +furiously indignant at the Wileys pretending to any concern in her +affairs. Towards Lady Latimer she was more indulgent. They spent many +hours in company, and told all their experiences. Harry talked of dons +and proctors, of work and play, of hopes and projects, of rivals and +friends. Bessie had not so much to tell: she showed him the _classe_ and +her place there, and introduced him to Janey. They visited all the +public gardens and river-side walks. They were beautiful young people, +and were the observed of many observers. The sagacious _curé_ of St. +Jean's, the confessor and director at the school, saw them by chance on +the morning of a day when he had a mission to Bayeux. What more natural +than that he should call upon Madame Fournier at her uncle the canon's +house? and what more simple than that he should mention having met the +English _belle_ and her cousin of the dangerous sex? + +Bessie Fairfax and Janey Fricker attended vespers regularly on Sunday +afternoons at the church of St. Jean; but they were not amongst the fair +penitents who whispered their peccadilloes once a fortnight in the +_curé's_ ear--he secluded in an edifice of chintz like a shower-bath, +they kneeling outside the curtain with the blank eyes of the Holy Mother +upon them, and the remote presence of a guardian-teacher out of hearing. +But he took an interest in them. No overt act of proselytism was +permitted in the school, but if an English girl liked vespers instead of +the second service at the Temple, her preference was not discouraged. +Bessie attended the Protestant ordinances at stated seasons, and went to +vespers and benediction besides. The _curé_ approved of her ingenuous +devotion. Once upon a time there had been Fairfaxes faithful children +of the Church: this young lady was an off-set of that house, its heiress +and hope in this generation; it would be a holy deed to bring her, the +mother perhaps of a new line, within its sacred pale. + +Madame Fournier heard his communication with alarm. Already, by her +ex-teacher Mrs. Wiley, this young Musgrave had been spoken against with +voice of warning. Madame returned to Caen with her worthy pastor. The +enterprising lover was just flown. Bessie had a sunshine face. +Mademoiselle Adelaide wept that night because of the reproaches madame +made her, and the following morning Bessie was invited to resume her +lessons, and was mulcted of every holiday indulgence. Janey Fricker +suffered with her, and for nearly a week they were all _en penitence_. +Then Miss Foster came; madame vanished without leave-taking, as if +liable to reappear at any instant, and lessons lapsed back into leisure. +Bessie felt that she had been an innocent scapegrace, and Harry very +venturesome; but she had so much enjoyed her "treat," and felt so much +the happier for it, that, all madame's grave displeasure +notwithstanding, she never was properly sorry. + +Harry Musgrave returned to England as jubilant as he left Bessie. The +trip, winter though it was, exhilarated him. But it behooved him to be +serious when Mr. Carnegie was angry, and Mrs. Carnegie declared that she +did not know how to forgive him. If his escapade were made known to Mr. +Fairfax, the upshot might be a refusal to let Bessie revisit them at +Beechhurst throughout the whole continuance of her school-days. And that +was what came of it. Of course his escapade was communicated to Mr. +Fairfax, and Madame Fournier received a letter from Abbotsmead with the +intimation that the youth who had presented himself in the Rue St. Jean +as a cousin of Miss Fairfax was nothing akin to her, and that if she +could not be secured from his presumptuous intrusions there, she must be +removed from madame's custody. They had associated together as children, +but it was desirable to stay the progress of their unequal friendship as +they grew up; for the youth, though well conducted and clever, was of +mean origin and poor condition; so Mr. Fairfax was credibly informed. +And he trusted that Madame Fournier would see the necessity of a +decisive separation between them. + +Madame did see the necessity. With Mr. Fairfax's letter came to her +hand another, a letter from the "youth" himself, but addressed to his +dear Bessie. That it should ever reach her was improbable. There was the +strictest quarantine for letters in the Rue St. Jean. Even letters to +and from parents passed through madame's private office. She opened and +read Harry Musgrave's as an obvious necessity, smiled over its boyish +exaggeration, and relished its fun at her own expense, for madame was a +woman of wisdom and humor. Little by little she had learnt the whole of +Bessie's life and conversation from her own lips; and she felt that +there was nothing to be feared from a lover of young Musgrave's type, +unless he was set on mischief by the premature interposition of +obstacles, of which this denial to Bessie of her Christmas holiday was +an example. + +However, madame had not to judge, but to act. She returned Harry +Musgrave his letter, with a polite warning that such a correspondence +with a girl at school was silly and not to be thought of. Harry blushed +a little, felt foolish, and put the document into the fire. Madame made +him confess to himself that he had gone to Caen as much for bravado as +for love of Bessie. Bessie never knew of the letter, but she cherished +her pretty romance in her heart, and when she was melancholy she thought +of the garden at Brook, and of the beeches by the stream where they had +sat and told their secrets on their farewell afternoon; and in her +imagination her dear Harry was a perfect friend and lover. + + * * * * * + +That episode passed out of date. Bessie gave her mind to improvement. +Discovery was made that she had a sweet singing voice, and, late in the +day as it seemed to begin, she undertook to learn the piano, on the plea +that it would be useful if she could only play enough to accompany +herself in a song. She had her dancing-lessons, her drawing-lessons, and +as much study of grammars, dictionaries, histories, geographies, and +sciences-made-easy as was good for her, and every day showed her more +and more what a dunce she was. Madame, however, treated her as a girl +who had _des moyens_, and she was encouraged to believe that when she +had done with school she would make as creditable a figure in the world +as most of her contemporaries. + +How far off her _début_ might be no one had yet inquired. Since her late +experiences there was little certainty in Bessie's expectations of going +to Beechhurst for the long vacation which began in July. And it was +salutary that she entertained a doubt, for it mitigated disappointment +when it came. About a fortnight before the breaking up madame sent for +her one evening in to the _salon_, and with much consideration informed +her that it was arranged she should go with her to Bayeux and to the +sea, instead of going to England. Bessie had acquired the art of +controlling her feelings, and she accepted the fiat in silence. But she +felt a throb of vindictive rage against her grandfather, and said in her +heart that to live in a world where such men were masters, women ought +to be made of machinery. She refused to write to him, but she wrote home +to Beechhurst, and asked if any of them were coming to see her. But the +loving joint reply of her father and mother was that they thought it +better not. + +Madame Fournier was indulgent in holiday-time, and Bessie was better +pleased at Bayeux than she had thought it possible to be. The canon +proved to be the most genial of old clergymen. He knew all the romance +of French history, and gave Bessie more instruction in their peripatetic +lectures about that drowsy, ancient city than she could have learnt in a +year of dull books. Then there was Queen Matilda's famous tapestry to +study in the museum, a very retired, rustic nook, all embowered in +vines. Bessie also practised sketching, for Bayeux is rich in bits of +street scenery--gables, queer windows, gateways, flowery balconies. And +she was asked into society with madame, and met the gentlefolks who kept +their simple, retired state about the magnificent cathedral. Before +Bayeux palled she was carried off to Luc-sur-Mer, the canon going too, +also in the care of madame his niece. + +Bessie's regret next to that for home was for the loneliness of Janey +Fricker, left with Miss Foster in the Rue St. Jean. She wished for Janey +to walk with her in the rough sea-wind, to bathe with her, and talk with +her. One morning when the sun was glorious on the dancing waves, she +cried out her longing for her little friend. The next day Janey arrived +by the diligence. Mr. Fairfax had given madame _carte blanche_ for the +holiday entertainment of his granddaughter, and madame was glad to be +able to content her so easily. Luc-sur-Mer is not a place to be +enthusiastic about. Its beauty is moderate--a shelving beach, a +background of sand-hills, and the rocky reef of Calvados. The canon took +his gentle paces with a broad-brimmed abbé from Avranches, and madame +was happy in the society of a married sister from Paris. The two girls +did as they pleased. They were very fond of one another, and this +sentiment is enough for perfect bliss at their age. Bessie had never +wavered in her protecting kindness to Janey, and Janey served her now +with devotion, and promised eternal remembrance and gratitude. + +When a fortnight came to an end at Luc-sur-Mer, Bessie returned to +Bayeux, and Janey went back to the Rue St. Jean. Before the school +reopened came into port at Caen the Petrel, and John Fricker, the +master-mariner, carried away his daughter. Janey left six lines of +hasty, tender adieu with Miss Foster for her friend, but no address. She +only said that she was "Going to sail with father." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_IN COURSE OF TIME._ + + +For days, weeks, months the memory of lost Janey Fricker haunted Bessie +Fairfax with a sweet melancholy. She missed her little friend +exceedingly. She did not doubt that Janey would write, would return, and +even a year of silence and absence did not cure her of regret and +expectation. She was of a constant as well as a faithful nature, and had +a thousand kind pleas and excuses for those she loved. It was impossible +to believe that Janey had forgotten her, but Janey made no sign of +remembrance. + +Time and change! Time and change! How fast they get over the ground! how +light the traces they leave behind them! At the next Christmas recess +there was a great exodus of English girls. The Miss Hiloes went, and +they had no successors. When Bessie wanted to talk of Janey and old +days, she had to betake herself to Miss Foster. There was nobody else +left who remembered Janey or her own coming to school. + +As the time went on letters from Beechhurst were fewer and farther +between; letters from Brook she had none, nor any mention of Harry +Musgrave in her mother's. Her grandfather desired to wean her from early +associations, and a mixture of pride and right feeling kept the +Carnegies from whatever could be misconstrued into a wish to thwart him. +No one came to see her from the Forest after that rash escapade of Harry +Musgrave's. Her eighteenth birthday passed, and she was still kept at +school both in school-time and holidays. + +Madame Fournier, the genial canon, the kind _curé_, a few English +acquaintances at Caen, a few French acquaintances at Bayeux, were very +good to her. Especially she liked her visits to the canon's house in +summer. Often, as the long vacation of her third year at Caen +approached, she caught herself musing on the probability of her recall +to England with a reluctancy full of doubts and fears. She had been so +long away that she felt half forgotten, and when madame announced that +once more she was to spend the autumn under her protection, she heard it +without remonstrance, and, for the moment, with something like relief. +But afterward, when the house was silent and the girls were all gone, +the unbidden tears rose often to her eyes, and the yearning of +home-sickness came upon her as strongly as in the early days of her +exile. + +Bayeux is a _triste_ little city, and in hot weather a perfect sun-trap +between its two hills. The river runs softly hidden amongst willows, and +the dust rises in light clouds with scarce a breath of air. Yet glimpses +of cool beautiful green within gates and over stone walls refresh the +eyes; vines drape the placid rustic nook that calls itself the library; +every other window in the streets is a garland or a posy, and through +the doors ajar show vistas of oleanders, magnolias, pomegranates +flowering in olive-wood tubs, and making sweet lanes and hedges across +tiled courts to the pleasant gloom of the old houses. + +Canon Fournier's house was in the neighborhood of the cathedral, and as +secluded, green, and garlanded as any. Oftentimes in the day his man +Launcelot watered the court-yard in agreeable zigzags. Bessie Fairfax, +when she heard the cool tinkle of the shower upon the stones, always +looked out to share the refreshment. The canon's _salon_ was a double +room with a _portière_ between. Two windows _gave_ upon the court and +two upon a shaded, paved terrace, from which a broad flight of steps +descended to the garden. The domain of the canon's housekeeper was at +one end of this terrace, and there old Babette sat in the cool shelling +peas, shredding beans, and issuing orders to Margot in the sultry +atmosphere of the kitchen stove. Bessie, alone in the _salon_ one August +morning, heard the shrill monotone of her voice in the pauses of a +day-dream. She had dropped her book because, try as she would to hold +her attention to the story, her thoughts lost themselves continually, +and were found again at every turning of the page astray somewhere about +the Forest--about home. + +"It is very strange! I cannot help thinking of them. I wonder whether +anything is happening?" she said, and yielded to the subtle influence. +She began to walk to and fro the _salon_. She went over in her mind many +scenes; she recollected incidents so trivial that they had been long ago +forgotten--how Willie had broken the wooden leg of little Polly's new +Dutch doll (for surgical practice), and how Polly had raised the whole +house with her lamentations. And then she fell to reckoning how old the +boys would be now and how big, until suddenly she caught herself +laughing through tears at that cruel pang of her own when, after +submitting to be the victim of Harry Musgrave's electrical experiments, +he had neglected to reward her with the anticipated kiss. "I wonder +whether he remembers?--girls remember such silly things." In this fancy +she stood still, her bright face addressed towards the court. Through +the trees over the wall appeared the gray dome of the cathedral. +Launcelot came sauntering and waving his watering-can. The stout figure +of the canon issued from the doorway of a small pavilion which he called +his _omnibus_, passed along under the shadow of the wall, and out into +the glowing sun. Madame entered the _salon_, her light quick steps +ringing on the _parquet_, her holiday voice clear as a carol, her +holiday figure gay as a showy-plumaged bird. + +"Ma chérie, tu n'es pas sortie? tu ne fais rien?" + +Bessie awoke from her reverie, and confessed that she was idle this +morning, very idle and uncomfortably restless: it was the heat, she +thought, and she breathed a vast sigh. Madame invited her to _do_ +something by way of relief to her _ennui_, and after a brief considering +fit she said she would go into the cathedral, where it was the coolest, +and take her sketching-block. + +Oh, for the moist glades of the Forest, for the soft turf under foot and +the thick verdure overhead! Bessie longed for them with all her heart as +she passed upon the sun-baked stones to the great door of the cathedral. +The dusk of its vaulted roof was not cool and sweet like the arching of +green branches, but chill with damp odors of antiquity. She sat down in +one of the arcades near the portal above the steps that descend into the +nave. The immense edifice seemed quite empty. The perpetual lamp burned +before the altar, and wandering echoes thrilled in the upper galleries. +Through a low-browed open door streamed across the aisle a flood of +sunshine, and there was the sound of chisel and mallet from the same +quarter, the stone-yard of the cathedral; but there was no visible +worshipper--nothing to interrupt her mood of reverie. + +For a long while, that is. Presently chimed in with the music of chisel +and mallet the ring of eager young footsteps outside, young men's +footsteps, voices and dear English speech. One was freely translating +from his guide-book: "The cathedral, many times destroyed, was rebuilt +after the fire of 1106, and not completed until the eighteenth century. +It is therefore of several styles. The length is one hundred and two +mètres and the height twenty-three mètres from floor to vault." + +Bessie's breath came and went very fast; so did the blood in her cheeks. +Surely that voice she knew. It was Harry Musgrave's voice, and this was +why thoughts of the Forest had haunted her all the morning. + +The owner of the voice entered, and it was Harry Musgrave--he and two +others, all with the fresh air of British tourists not long started on +their tour, knapsack on back and walking-stick in hand. They pulled off +their gray wideawakes and stared about, lowering their manly tones as +they talked; stood a few minutes considering the length, breadth, +height, and beauty of general effect in the nave and the choir, and then +descended the steps, and in the true national spirit of inquiry walked +straight to the stream of sunshine that revealed a door opening into +some place unseen. Bessie, sitting in retired shade, escaped their +observation. She laughed to herself with an inexpressible gladness. It +was certainly not by accident that Harry was here. She would have liked +to slip along the aisle in his shadow, to have called him by his name, +but the presence of his two unknown companions, and some diffidence in +herself, restrained her until the opportunity was gone, and he +disappeared, inveigled by the sacristan into making the regular tour of +the building. She knew every word he would hear, every antiquity he +would admire. She saw him in the choir turning over the splendid +manuscript books of Holy Writ and of the Mass which were in use in the +church when the kings of England were still dukes of Normandy; saw him +carried off into the crypt where is shown the pyx of those long-ago +times, a curious specimen of mediæval work in brass; and after that she +lost him. + +Would they climb the dome, those enterprising young men? Bessie took it +for granted that they would. But she must see dear Harry again; and oh +for a word with him! Perhaps he would seek her out--he might have learnt +from her mother where she was at Bayeux--or perhaps he would not _dare_? +Not that Harry's character had ever lacked daring where his wishes were +concerned; still, recollecting the trouble that had come of his former +unauthorized visit, he might deny himself for her sake. It was not +probable, and Bessie would not have bidden him deny himself; she would +willingly go through the same trouble again for the same treat. Why had +she not taken courage to arrest his progress? How foolish, how heartless +it would appear to-morrow if the chance were not renewed to her to-day! +She would not have done so silly a thing three years ago--her impulse to +follow him, to call out his name, would have been irresistible--but now +she felt shy of him. A plague on her shyness! + +Bessie's little temper had the better of her for a minute or two. She +was very angry with herself, would never forgive herself, she said, if +by her own trivial fault she had thrown away this favor of kind Fortune. +What must she do, what could she do, to retrieve her blunder? Where seek +for him? How find him? She quivered, grew hot and cold again with +excitement. Should she go to the Green Square?--he was sure to visit +that quarter. Then she remembered a high window in the canon's house +that commanded the open spaces round the cathedral; she would go and +watch from that high window. It was a long while before she arrived at +this determination; she waited to see if the strangers would return to +the beautiful chapter-house, to admire its fine tesselated floor and +carved stalls, and its chief treasure in the exquisite ivory crucifix of +the unfortunately famous princess De Lamballe; but they did not return, +and then she hastened home, lest she should be too late. Launcelot was +plying his water-can for the sixth time that morning when she entered +the court, and she stood in an angle of shadow to feel the air of the +light shower. + +"Here she is, and just the same as ever!" exclaimed somebody at the +_salon_ window. + +Bessie was startled into a cry of joy. It was Harry Musgrave himself. +Madame Fournier had been honored with his society for quite half an hour +while his little friend was loitering and longing pensively in the +cathedral. All that lost, precious time! Bessie never recollected how +they met, or what they said to each other in the first moments, but +Babette, who witnessed the meeting through the glass door at the end of +the hall which opened on the terrace, had a firm belief ever afterward +that the English ladies and gentlemen embrace with a kiss after +absence--a sign whether of simplicity or freedom of manners, she could +not decide; so she wisely kept her witness to herself, being a sage +person and of discreet experiences. + +They returned into the _salon_ together. It was full of the perfume of +roses, of the wavering shadow of leaves on the floor and walls and +ceiling. It looked bright and pretty, and madame, with suave benignity, +explained: "I told Mr. Musgrave that it was better to wait here, and not +play hide-and-seek; Bessie was sure to come soon." + +"I saw you in the cathedral, Harry; you passed close by me. It was so +difficult not to cry out!" + +"You saw me in the cathedral, and did not run up to me? Oh, Bessie!" + +"There were two other gentlemen with you." Bessie, though conscious of +her wickedness, saw no harm in extenuating it. + +"If there had been twenty, what matter? Would I have let you pass me? If +I had not found courage to seek you here--and it required some courage, +and some perseverance, too--why, I should have missed you altogether." + +Bessie laughed: here were they sparring as if they had parted no longer +ago than yesterday! Then she blushed, and all at once they came to +themselves, and began to be graver and more restrained. + +"My friends are Fordyce and Craik; they have gone to study the Tapestry. +I said I would look in at it later with you, Bessie: I counted on you +for my guide," announced Harry with native assurance. + +Bessie launched a supplicatory glance at madame, then hazarded a +doubtful consent, which did not provoke a denial. After that they moved +to the garden-end of the _salon_, and seated themselves in friendly +proximity. Then Bessie asked to be told all about them at home. All +about them was not a long story. The doctor's family had not arrived at +the era of dispersion and changes; the three years that had been so +long, full, and important to Bessie had passed in his house like three +monotonous days. The same at Brook. + +"The fathers and mothers, yours and mine, are not an hour altered," +Harry Musgrave said. "The boys are grown. Jack is a sturdy little +ruffian, as you might expect; no boy in the Forest runs through so many +clothes as Jack--that's the complaint. There is a talk of sending him to +sea, and he is deep in Marryat's novels for preparation." + +"Poor Jack, he was a sad Pickle, but _so_ affectionate! And Willie and +the others?" queried Bessie rather mournfully. + +Concerning Willie and the others there was a favorable account. Of all +Bessie's old friends and acquaintances not one was lost, not one had +gone away. But talk of them was only preliminary to more interesting +talk of themselves, modestly deferred, but well lingered over once it +was begun. Harry Musgrave could not tell Bessie too much--he could not +explain with too exact a precision the system of college-life, its +delights and drawbacks. He had been very successful; he had won many +prizes, and anticipated the distinction of a high degree--all at the +cost of work. One term he had not gone up to Oxford. The doctor had +ordered him to rest. + +"Still, you are not quite killed with study," said Bessie gayly, +rallying him. She thought the school-life of girls was as laborious as +the college-life of young men, with much fewer alleviations. + +"That was never my way. I can make a spurt if need be. But it is safer +to keep a steady, even pace." + +"And what are you going to do for a profession, Harry? Have you made up +your mind yet?" + +Harry had made up his mind to win a fellowship at Oxford, and then to +enter himself at one of the Inns of Court and read for the bar. For +physic and divinity he had no taste, but the law would suit him. Bessie +was ineffably depressed by this information: what romance is there in +the law for the imagination of eighteen? If Harry had said he was going +to throw himself on the world as a poor author, she would have bestowed +upon him a fund of interest and sympathy. To win a little of such +encouragement Harry added that while waiting for briefs he might be +forced to betake himself to the cultivation of light literature, of +journalism, or even of parliamentary reporting: many men, now of mark, +had done so. Then Bessie was better satisfied. "But oh what a prodigious +wig you will want!" was her rueful conclusion. + +"Have I such a Goliath head?" Harry inquired, rubbing his large hands +through his crisp, abundant locks. They were as much all in a fuzz as +ever, but his skin was not so gloriously tanned, and his hands were +white instead of umber. Bessie noticed them: they were whiter and more +delicate than her own. + +Harry Musgrave had no conceit, but plenty of confidence, and he knew +that his head was a very good head. It had room for plenty of brains, +and Harry was of opinion that it is far more desirable to be born with +a fortune in brains than with the proverbial silver spoon in one's +mouth. He would have laughed to scorn the vulgar notion that to be born +in the purple or in a wilderness of money-bags is more than an +equivalent, and would have bid you see the little value God sets on +riches by observing the people to whom He gives them. Birth, he would +have granted, ensures a man a long step at starting, but unless he have +brains his rival without ancestors will pass him in the race for +distinction. This was young Musgrave's creed at three-and-twenty. He +expounded it to Bessie, who heard him with a puzzled perception of +something left out. Harry, like many another man at the beginning of +life, reckoned without the unforeseen. + +The sum of Bessie's experiences, adventures, opinions was not long. Her +mind had not matured at school as it would have done in the practical +education of home. She had acquired a graceful carriage and propriety of +behavior, and she had learned a little more history, with a few dates +and other things that are written in books; but of current literature +and current events, great or small, she had learned nothing. For +seclusion a French school is like a convent. She had a sense of humor +and a sense of justice--qualities not too common in the sex; and she had +a few liberal notions, the seed of which had been sown during her rides +with the doctor. They would probably outlive her memory for the shadowy +regions of chronology. Then she had a clear and strong sentiment with +regard to the oppressive manner in which her grandfather had exercised +his right and power over her, which gave a tincture to her social views +not the most amiable. She was confessedly happier with Madame Fournier +at Bayeux than she had any anticipation of being at Abbotsmead, but she +had nevertheless a feeling of injury in being kept in a state of +pupilage. She had wrought up her mind to expect a recall to England when +she was eighteen, and no recall had come. Harry Musgrave's inquiry when +she was to leave school brought a blush to her face. She was ashamed to +answer that she did not know. + +"Lady Latimer should interfere for you," suggested Harry, who had not +received a lively impression of her lot. + +Bessie's countenance cleared with a flash, and her thoughts were +instantly diverted to Fairfield and its gracious mistress--that bright +particular star of her childish imagination: "Oh, Harry, have you made +friends with Lady Latimer?" asked she. + +"I have not been to her house, because she has never asked me since that +time I despised her commands, but we have a talk when we meet on the +road. Her ladyship loves all manner of information, and is good enough +to take an interest in my progress. I know she takes an interest in it, +because she recollects what I tell her--not like our ascetic parson, who +forgets whether I am at Balliol or Oriel, and whether I came out first +class or fourth in moderations." + +"I wish I could meet Lady Latimer on the road or anywhere! Seeing you +makes me long to go home, Harry," said Bessie with a sigh. Harry +protested that she ought to go home, and promised that he would speak +about it--he would go to Fairfield immediately on his return to the +Forest, and beg Lady Latimer to intercede in her behalf. Bessie had a +doubt whether this was a judicious plan, but she did not say so. The +hope of deliverance, once admitted into her mind, overcame all +perplexities. + +A little while and the canon came in glowing hot. "_Pouf!_" and he wiped +his rubicund, round visage with a handkerchief as brilliant. Coming +straight from the glare out of doors, he was not aware of the stranger +in the _salon_ till his eyes were used to the gloom. Then madame and +Bessie effected Harry's introduction, and as Harry, with a rare wisdom, +had practised colloquial French, he and the canon were soon acquainted. +Once only had the old man visited England, a visit for ever memorable on +account of the guinea he had paid for his first dinner in London. + +"Certainly, they took you for an archbishop or for a monsigneur," said +Harry, when the old story of this cruel extortion was recited to him. +The canon was pleased. This explanation gave a color of flattery to his +infamous wrong. And madame thought her brother had quite _l'air noble_. + +Babette summoned them to _dejeuner_. Harry stayed gladly at a hint of +invitation. Across the table the two young people had a full view of +each other, and satisfied their eyes with gazing. Bessie looked lovely +in her innocent delight, and Harry had now a maturer appreciation of +her loveliness. He himself had more of the student aspect, and an air of +lassitude, which he ascribed, as he had been instructed, to overstrain +in reading for the recent examinations. This was why he had come +abroad--the surest way of taking mental rest and refreshment. +Incidentally he mentioned that he had given up boating and athletic +exercises, under Mr. Carnegie's direction. Bessie only smiled, and +reflected that it was odd to hear of Harry Musgrave taking care of +himself. One visitor from England on a day would have been enough, but +by a curious coincidence, as they sat all at ease, through the open +window from the court there sounded another English voice, demanding +Madame Fournier and Miss Fairfax. + +"Who can it be?" said Bessie, and she craned her fair neck to look, +while a rosy red suffused her face from chin to brow. + +The canon and madame laid down their knives and forks to listen, and +involuntarily everybody's eyes turned upon Harry. He could not forbear a +smile and a glance of intelligence at Bessie; for he had an instant +suspicion that this new-comer was an emissary from Mr. Fairfax, and from +her agitation so had she. Launcelot held a short, prompt parley at the +gate, then Babette intervened, and next was audible the advance of a +firm, even step into the hall, and the closing of the _salon_ door. +"Encore un beau monsieur pour mademoiselle," announced the housekeeper, +and handed in a card inscribed with the name of "Mr. Cecil Burleigh," +and a letter of introduction from Mr. Fairfax. + +Bessie's heart went pit-a-pat while madame read the letter, and Harry +feared that he would probably have to find his way to the Tapestry +without a guide. Madame's countenance was inscrutable, but she said to +Bessie, "Calme-toi, mon enfant," and finished her meal with extreme +deliberation. Then with a perfect politeness, and an utter oblivion of +the little arrangement for a walk to the library that Harry and Bessie +had made, she gave him his _congé_ in the form of a hope that he would +never fail to visit her when he found himself at Caen or Bayeux. Harry +accepted it with a ready apprehension of the necessity for his +dismissal, and without alluding to the Tapestry made his respectful +acknowledgments to madame and the canon preparatory to bidding Bessie +farewell. + +Under the awning over the _perron_ they said their good-byes. Bessie, +frank-hearted girl, was disappointed even to the glittering of tears. +"It has been very pleasant. I am so happy you came!" whispered she with +a tremor. + +"God bless you, dear little Bessie! Give me this for a keepsake," said +Harry, and took a white, half-blown rose which she wore in the bosom of +her pretty dress of lilac _percale_. She let him have it. Then they +stood for a minute face to face and hand in hand, but the delicate +perplexities of Babette, spying through her glass door, were not +increased by a kiss at parting. And the young man seemed to rush away at +last in sudden haste. + +"Montes dans ta chambre quelques instants, Bessie," said the voice of +madame. And then with a gentle, decorous dignity she entered the +_salon_. + + * * * * * + +When madame entered the _salon_, Mr. Cecil Burleigh was standing at one +of the windows that _gave_ upon the court. He witnessed the departure of +Harry Musgrave, and did not fail to recognize an Englishman in the best +made of English clothes. The reader will probably recognize _him_ as one +of the guests at the Fairfield wedding, who had shown some attention to +Bessie Fairfax on her grandfather's introduction of him as a neighbor of +his in Woldshire. He was now at Bayeux by leave of Mr. Fairfax, to see +the young lady and take the sense of her opinions as to whether she +would prefer to remain another year at school, or to go back to England +in ten days under his escort. The interval he was on his way to spend in +Paris--on a private errand for the government, to a highly honorable +member of which he was private secretary. + +Mr. Fairfax's letter to madame announced in simple terms the object of +Mr. Cecil Burleigh's mission to Bayeux, and as the gentleman recited it +by word of mouth she grew freezingly formal. To lose Bessie would be a +loss that she had been treating as deferred. Certainly, also, the ways +of the English are odd! To send the young lady on a two days' journey +with this strange gentleman, who was no relative, was impossible. So +well brought up as Bessie had been since she came to Caen, she would +surely refuse the alternative, and decide to remain at school. Madame +replied to the announcement that Miss Fairfax would appear in a few +minutes, and would of course speak for herself. But Bessie was in no +haste to meet the envoy from Kirkham after parting with her beloved +Harry, and when a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and there was still no +sign of her coming, Babette was despatched to the top of the house to +bring her down to the interview. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had taken a chair opposite the door, and he watched +for its reopening with a visible and vivid interest. It opened, and +Bessie walked in with that stately erectness of gait which was +characteristic of the women of her race. "As upright as a Fairfax," was +said of them in more senses than one. She was blushing, and her large +dark blue eyes had the softness of recent tears. She curtseyed, +school-girl fashion, to her grandfather's envoy, and her graceful proud +humility set him instantly at a distance. His programme was to be +lordly, affable, tenderly patronizing, but his dark cheek flushed, and +self-possessed as he was, both by nature and habit, he was suddenly at a +loss how to address this stiff princess about whom he had expected to +find some rags of Cophetua still hanging. But the rags were all gone, +and the little gypsy of the Forest was become a lady. + +Madame intervened with needful explanations. Bessie comprehended the +gist of the embassage very readily. She must take heart for an immediate +encounter with her grandfather and all her other difficulties, or she +must resign herself to a fourth year of exile and of school. Her mind +was at once made up. Since the morning--how long ago it seemed!--an +ardent wish to return to England had begun to glow in her imagination. +She wanted her real life to begin. These dull, monotonous school-days +were only a prelude which had gone on long enough. Therefore she said, +with brief consideration, that her choice would be to return home. + +"To Kirkham understand, _ma chérie_, not to Beechhurst," said madame +softly, warningly. + +"To Kirkham, so be it! Sooner or later I must go there," answered Bessie +with brave resignation. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was apparently gratified by the young lady's +consent, abrupt though it was. But madame's countenance fell. She was +deeply disappointed at this issue. Apart from her pecuniary interest in +Bessie, which was not inconsiderable, Bessie had become a source of +religious concern to influential persons. And there was a favorite +nephew of madame's, domiciled in Paris, about whom visionary schemes had +been indulged, which now all in a moment vanished. This young nephew was +to have come with his mother to Étretât only a week hence, and there the +canon and Madame Fournier were to have joined them, with the beautiful +English girl committed to their charge. It was now good-bye to all such +plots and plans. + +Bessie perceived from her face that madame was distressed, but she did +not know all the reasons why. Madame had been very good to her, and +Bessie felt sorry; but to leave school for home was such a natural, +inevitable episode in the course of life in the Rue St. Jean that, +beyond a momentary regret, she had no compunction. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +proceeded to lay open his arrangements. He was on his road to Paris, +where he might be detained from ten to fifteen days, but madame should +receive a letter from him when the precise time of his return was fixed. +After he had spoken to this effect he rose to take leave, and Bessie, +blushing as she heard her own voice, originated her first remark, her +first question: + +"My grandfather hardly knows me. Does he expect my arrival at Kirkham +with pleasure, or would he rather put it off for another year?" Madame +thought she was already wavering in her determination. + +"I am sure that when I have written to him he will expect your arrival +with the _greatest_ pleasure," replied Mr. Cecil Burleigh with kind +emphasis, retaining Bessie's hand for a moment longer than was +necessary, and relinquishing it with a cordial shake. + +Bessie's blushes did not abate at the compliment implied in his answer +and in his manner: he had been favorably impressed, and would send to +Abbotsmead a favorable report of her. When he was gone she all in a +moment recollected when and where she had seen him before, and wondered +that he had not reminded her of it; but perhaps he had forgotten too? +She soon let go that reminiscence, and with a light heart, in +anticipation of the future which had appeared in the distance so +unpropitious, she talked of it to madame with a thousand random +speculations, until madame was tired of the subject. And then she talked +of it to Babette, who having no private disappointments in connection +therewith, proved patiently and sympathetically responsive. + +"Of course," said Bessie, "we shall go down the river to Havre, and then +we shall cross to Hampton. I shall send them word at home, and some of +them are sure to come and meet me there." + +The letter was written and despatched, and in due course of post arrived +an answer from Mr. Carnegie. He would come to Hampton certainly, and his +wife would come with him, and perhaps one of the boys: they would come +or go anywhere for a sight of their dear Bessie. But, fond, affectionate +souls! they were all doomed to disappointment. Mr. Cecil Burleigh wrote +earlier than was expected that he had intelligence from Kirkham to the +effect that Mr. Frederick Fairfax would be at Havre with his yacht on or +about a certain day, that he would come to Caen and himself take charge +of his niece, and carry her home by sea--to Scarcliffe understood, for +Kirkham was full twenty miles from the coast. + +"Oh, how sorry I am! how sorry they will be in the Forest!" cried +Bessie. "Is there no help for it?" + +Madame was afraid there was no help for it--nothing for it but +submission and obedience. And Bessie wrote to revoke all the cheerful +promises and prospects that she had held out to her friends at +Beechhurst. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +_BESSIE LEARNS A FAMILY SECRET._ + + +Canon Fournier went to Étretât by himself, for madame was bound to +escort her pupil to Caen, to prepare her for her departure to England, +and with her own hands to remit her into those of her friends. Caen is +suffocatingly hot in August--dusty, empty, dull. Mr. Frederick +Fairfax's beautiful yacht, the Foam, was in port at Havre, but it was +understood that a week would elapse before it could be ready to go to +sea again. It had met with some misadventure and wanted repairs. Mr. +Frederick Fairfax came on to Caen, and presented himself in the Rue St. +Jean, where he saw Bessie in the garden. Two chairs were brought out for +them, and they sat and talked to the tinkle of the old fountain. It was +not much either had to say to the other. The gentleman was absent and +preoccupied, like a person accustomed to solitude and long silence; even +while he talked he gave Bessie the impression of being half lost in +reverie. He bore some slight resemblance to his father, and his fair +hair and beard were whitening already, though he appeared otherwise in +the prime of life. + +The day after her uncle's visit there came to Bessie a sage, matronly +woman to offer her any help or information she might need in prospect of +sea-adventures. Mrs. Betts was to attend upon her on board the yacht; +she had decisive ways and spoke like a woman in authority. When Bessie +hesitated she told her what to do. She had been in charge of Mr. +Frederick Fairfax's unfortunate wife during a few weeks' cruise along +the coast. The poor lady was an inmate of the asylum of the Bon Sauveur +at Caen. The Foam had been many times into the port on her account +during Bessie's residence in the Rue St. Jean, but, naturally enough, +Mr. Frederick Fairfax had kept his visits from the knowledge of his +school-girl niece. Now, however, concealment might be abandoned, for if +the facts were not communicated to her here, she would be sure to hear +them at Kirkham. And Mrs. Betts told her the pitiful story. Bessie was +inexpressibly awed and shocked at the revelation. She had not heard a +whisper of the tragedy before. + +One evening in the cool Bessie walked with Miss Foster up the wide +thoroughfare, at the country end of which are the old convent walls and +gardens which enclose the modern buildings of the Bon Sauveur. They were +not a dozen paces from the gates when the wicket was opened by a sister, +and Mr. Frederick Fairfax came out. Bessie's face flushed and her eyes +filled with tears of compassion. + +"You know where I have been, then, Elizabeth?" said he--"to visit my +poor wife. She seems happier in her little room full of birds and +flowers than on the yacht with me, yet the good nuns assure me she is +the better for her sea-trip. The nuns are most kind." + +Bessie acquiesced, and Miss Foster remarked that it was at the Bon +Sauveur gentle usage of the insane had first superseded the cruel old +system of restraints and terror. Mr. Frederick Fairfax shivered, stood a +minute gazing dejectedly into space, and then walked on. + +"He loves her," said Bessie, deeply touched. "I suppose death is a light +affliction in comparison with such a separation." + +The wicket was still open, the sister was still looking out. There was a +glimpse of lofty houses, open windows, grapevines rich in purple +clusters on the walls, and boxes of mignonette and gayer flowers upon +the window-sills. Miss Foster asked Bessie if she would like to see what +of the asylum was shown; and though Bessie's taste did not incline to +painful studies, before she had the decision to refuse she found herself +inside the gates and the sister was reciting her monotonous formula. + +These tall houses in a crescent on the court were occupied by +lady-boarders not suffering from mental alienation or any loss of +faculty, but from decayed fortunes. The deaf and dumb, the blind, the +crippled, epileptic, and insane had separate dwellings built apart in +the formal luxuriant gardens. "We have patients of all nations," said +the sister. "Strangers see none of these; there have been distressing +recognitions." Bessie was not desirous of seeing any. She breathed more +freely when she was outside the gates. It was a nightmare to imagine the +agonies massed within those walls, though all is done that skill and +charity can do for their alleviation. + + * * * * * + +"You will not forget us: if ever you come back to Caen, you will not +forget us?" The speaker was little Mrs. Foster. + +Bessie had learned to love Mrs. Foster's crowded, minute _salon_, her +mixed garden of flowers and herbs; and she had learned to love the old +lady too, by reason of the kindnesses she had done her and her +over-worked daughter. Mr. Fairfax had made his granddaughter an +allowance of pocket-money so liberal that she was never at a loss for a +substantial testimony of her gratitude to any one who earned it. And now +her farewell visits to all who had been kind to her were paid, and she +was surprised how much she was leaving that she regretted. The word had +come for her to be ready at a moment's call. The yacht was in the river, +her luggage was gone on board, and Mrs. Betts had completed her final +arrangements for the comfort of the young lady. Only Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was to wait for--that was the last news for Bessie: Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was to join the yacht, and to be carried to England with her. + +There were three days to wait. The time seemed long in that large vacant +house, that sunburnt secluded garden, that glaring silent court. Bessie +spent hours in the church. It was cool there, and close by if her +summons came. The good _curé_ saw her often, and took no notice. She was +not devout. She was too facile, too philosophical of temper to have +violent preferences or aversions in religion. A less sober mind than +hers would have yielded to the gentle pressure of universal example, but +Bessie was not of those who are given to change. She would have made an +excellent Roman Catholic if she had been born and bred in that +communion, but she had disappointed everybody's pious hopes and efforts +for her conversion to it. She once said to the _curé_ that holiness of +life was the chief thing, and she could not make out that it was the +monopoly of any creed or any sect, or any age of the world. He gave her +his blessing, and, not to acknowledge a complete defeat, he told Madame +Fournier that if the dear young lady met with poignant griefs and +mortifications, for which there were abundant opportunities in her +circumstances, he had expectations that she might then seek refuge and +consolation in the tender arms of the Church. Madame did not agree with +him. She had studied Bessie's character more closely, and believed that +whatever her trials, her strength would always suffice for her day, and +that whatever she changed she would not change her profession of faith +or deny her liberal and practical Protestant principles. + +There was hurry at the end, as in most departures, but it was soon +over, and then followed a delicious calm. The yacht was towed down the +river in the beautiful cool of the evening. A pretty awning shaded the +deck, and there Bessie dined daintily with her uncle and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh, and for the first time in her life was served with polite +assiduity. She looked very handsome and more coquettish than she had any +idea of in her white dress and red _capuchon_, but she felt shy at being +made so much of. She did not readily adapt herself to worship. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh had arrived from Paris only that afternoon, and had many +amusing things to tell of his pleasures and adventures there. He spoke +of Paris as one who loved the gay city, and seemed in excellent spirits. +If his mission had a political object, he must certainly have carried it +through with triumphant success; but his talk was of balls, _fêtes_, +plays and shows. + +After they had dined Bessie was left to her memories and musings, while +the gentlemen went pacing up and down the deck in earnest conversation. +It was a perfect evening. The sky was full of color, scarlet, rosy, +violet, primrose--changing, fading, flushing, perpetually. And before +all was gray the moon had risen and was shining in silver floods upon +the sea. In the mystery of moonshine Bessie lost sight of the phantom +poplars that fringe the Orne. The excitement of novelty and uncertainty +routed dull thoughts, and her fancy pruned its wings for a flight into +the future. In the twilight came Mrs. Betts, and cut short the flight of +fancy with prosy suggestions of early retirement to rest. It was easy to +retire, but not so easy to sleep. Bessie's mind was astir. It became +retrospective. She went over the terrors of her first coming to Caen, +the dinner at Thunby's, and the weird talk of Janey Fricker in the +_dortoir_, till melancholy overwhelmed her. + +Where was Janey? Was she still sailing with her father? No news of her +had ever come to the Rue St. Jean since the day she left it. It +sometimes crossed Bessie's mind that Janey was no longer in the land of +the living. At last, with the lulling, soft motion of a breezeless night +on the water, came oblivion and sleep too sound for dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +_ON BOARD THE FOAM._ + + +Life is continuous, so we say, but here and there events happen that +mark off its parts so sharply as almost to sever them. Awaking the next +morning in the tiny gilded cabin of the Foam was the signal of such an +event to Bessie Fairfax. She had put away childish things, and left them +behind her at Caen yesterday. To-day before her, across the Channel, was +a new world to be proved, and a cloudy revelation of the joys and +sorrows, the hopes and fears that nourish the imagination of blooming +adolescence. For a minute she did not realize where she was, and lay +still, with wide-open eyes and ears perplexed, listening to the wash of +the sea. There was a splendid sunshine, a sky blue as sapphire, and a +lovely green ripple of waves against the glass. + +The voice of Mrs. Betts brought her to herself: "I thought it best to +let you sleep your sleep out, miss. The sea-air does it. The gentlemen +have breakfasted two hours ago." + +Bessie was sorry and ashamed. It was with a penitent face she appeared +on deck. But she immediately discovered that this was not school: she +had entire liberty to please and amuse herself. Perhaps if her +imagination had been less engaged she might have found the voyage +tedious. Mrs. Betts told her there was no knowing when they should see +Scarcliffe--it depended on wind and weather and whims. The yacht was to +put in at Ryde to land Mr. Cecil Burleigh; and as the regattas were +going on, they might cruise off the Isle of Wight for a week, maybe, for +the master was never in a hurry. In Bessie's bower there was an +agreeable selection of novels, but she had many successive hours of +silence to dream in when she was tired of heroes and heroines. Mr. +Frederick Fairfax was the most taciturn of men, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was constantly busy with pens, ink, and paper. In the long course of the +day he did take shreds of leisure, but they were mostly devoted to +cigars and meditation. Bessie observed that he was older and graver +since that gay wedding at Fairfield--which of course he had a right to +be, for it was three years ago--but he was still and always a very +handsome and distinguished personage. + +In the _salon_ of Canon Fournier at Bayeux, Bessie Fairfax had +disconcerted this fine gentleman, but now the tables were turned, and on +board the yacht he often disconcerted her--not of _malice prepense_, but +for want of due consideration. No doubt she was a little unformed, +ignorant girl, but her intuitive perceptions were quick, and she knew +when she was depreciated and misunderstood. On a certain afternoon he +read her some beautiful poetry under the awning, and was interested to +know whether she had any taste for poetry. Bessie confessed that at +school she had read only Racine, and felt shy of saying what she used to +read at home, and he dropped the conversation. He drew the conclusion +that she did not care for literature. At their first meeting it had +seemed as if they might become cordial friends, but she soon grew +diffident of this much-employed stranger, who always had the ill-luck to +discover to her some deficiency in her education. The effect was that by +the time the yacht anchored off Ryde, she had lost her ease in his +society, and had become as shy as he was capricious, for she thought him +a most capricious and uncertain person in temper and demeanor. + +Yet it was not caprice that influenced his behavior. He was quite +unconscious of the variableness that taxed her how to meet it. He +approved of Bessie: he admired her--face, figure, air, voice, manner. He +judged that she would probably mature into a quiet and loving woman of +no very pronounced character, and there was a direct purpose in his mind +to cultivate her affection and to make her his wife. He thought her a +nice girl, sweet and sensible, but she did not enchant him. Perhaps he +was under other magic--under other magic, but not spell-bound beyond his +strength to break the charm. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was a man of genius and of soaring +ambition--well-born, well-nurtured, but as the younger son of a younger +son absolutely without patrimony. At his school and his university he +had won his way through a course of honors, and he would disappoint all +who knew him if he did not revive the traditions of his name and go onto +achieve place, power, and fame. To enter Parliament was necessary for +success in the career he desired to run, and the first step towards +Parliament for a poor young man was a prudent marriage into a family of +long standing, wide connection, and large influence in their county--so +competent authorities assured him--and all these qualifications had the +Fairfaxes of Kirkham, with a young heiress sufficiently eligible, +besides, to dispose of. The heads on each side had spoken again, and in +almost royal fashion had laid the lines for an alliance between their +houses. When Mr. Cecil Burleigh took Caen in his road to Paris, it was +with the distinct understanding that if Elizabeth Fairfax pleased him +and he succeeded in pleasing her, a marriage between them would crown +the hopes of both their families. + +The gentleman had not taken long to decide that the lady would do. And +now they were on the Foam together he had opportunities enough of +wooing. He availed himself of a courtly grace of manner, with sometimes +an air of worship, which would have been tenderness had he felt like a +lover. Bessie was puzzled, and grew more and more ill at ease with him. +Absorbed in work, in thought, or in idle reverie and smoke, he appeared +natural and happy; he turned his attention to her, and was gay, +gracious, flattering, but all with an effort. She wished he would not +give himself the trouble. She hated to be made to blush and stammer in +her talk; it confused her to have him look superbly in her eyes; it made +her angry to have him press her hand as if he would reassure her against +a doubt. + +Fortunately, the time was not long, for they began to bore one another +immensely. It was an exquisite morning when they anchored opposite Ryde, +and the first day of the annual regatta. At breakfast Mr. Cecil Burleigh +quietly announced that he would now leave the yacht, and make his way +home in a few days by the ordinary conveyances. Mr. Frederick Fairfax, +who was a consenting party to the family arrangement, suggested that +Bessie might like to go on shore to see the town and the charming +prospect from the pier and the strand. Mr. Cecil Burleigh did not second +the suggestion promptly enough to avoid the suspicion that he would +prefer to go alone; and Bessie, who had a most sensitive reluctance to +be where she was not wanted, made haste to say that she did not care to +land--she was quite satisfied to see the town from the water. Thereupon +the gentleman pressed the matter with so much insistance that, though +she would much rather have foregone the pleasure than enjoy it under his +escort, she found no polite words decisive enough for a refusal. + +A white sateen dress embroidered in black and red, and a flapping +leghorn hat tied down gypsy style with a crimson ribbon, was a +picturesque costume, but not orthodox as a yachting costume at Ryde. +Bessie had a provincial French air in spite of her English face, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh perhaps regretted that she was not more suitably equipped +for making her _début_ in his company. He had a prejudice against +peculiarity in dress, and knew that it was a terrible thing to be out of +the fashion and to run the gauntlet of bold eyes on Ryde pier. At the +seaside the world is idle, and has nothing to do but stare and +speculate. Bessie had beauty enough to be stared at for that alone, but +it was not her beauty that attracted most remark; it was her cavalier +and the singularity of her attire. Poor child! with her own industrious +fingers had she lavishly embroidered that heathen embroidery. The +gentlemen were not critically severe; the ladies looked at her, and +looked again for her escort's sake, and wondered how this prodigiously +fine gentleman came to have foregathered with so outlandish a blushing +girl; for Bessie, when she perceived herself an object of curious +observation, blushed furiously under the unmitigated fire of their gaze. +And most heartily did she wish herself back again on board the Foam. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had friends and acquaintances everywhere, and some +very dear friends at this moment at Ryde. That was why he ended his +yachting there. As he advanced with Bessie up the pier every minute +there was an arrest, a brisk inquiry, and a reply. At last a halt that +might have been a _rendezvous_ occurred, finding of seats ensued, with +general introductions, and then a settling down on pretence of watching +the yachts through a glass. It was a very pretty spectacle, and Bessie +was left at liberty to enjoy it, and also to take note of the many gay +and fashionable folk who enrich and embellish Ryde in the season; for +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was entirely engrossed with another person. The +party they had joined consisted of a very thin old gentleman, spruce, +well brushed, and well cared for; of a languid, pale lady, some thirty +years younger, who was his wife; and of two girls, their daughters. It +was one of these daughters who absorbed all Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +attention, and Bessie recognized her at once as that most beautiful +young lady to whom he had been devoted at the Fairfield wedding. His +meeting with her had quite transfigured him. He looked infinitely glad, +an expression that was reflected on her countenance in a lovely light of +joy. It was not necessary to be a witch to discern that there was an +understanding between these two--that they loved one another. Bessie saw +it and felt sympathetic, and was provoked at the recollection of her +foolish conceit in being perplexed by the gentleman's elaborate +courtesies to herself. + +The other sister talked to her. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner sat in silent +pensiveness, according to their wont, contemplating the boats on the +water. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Julia (he called her Julia) conversed +together in low but earnest tones. It seemed that they had much to +communicate. Presently they crossed the pier, and stood for ever so long +leaning over the railing. Bessie was not inquisitive, but she could take +a lively, unselfish interest in many matters that did not concern her. +When they turned round again she was somehow not surprised to see that +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had a constrained air, and that the shell-pink face +of the young lady was pale and distorted with emotion. Their joy and +gladness had been but evanescent. She came hastily to her mother and +said they would now go home to luncheon. On the way she and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh followed behind the rest, but they did not speak much, or spoke +only of common things. + +The Gardiners had a small house in a street turning up from the Strand, +a confined little house of the ordinary lodging-house sort, with a +handsbreadth of gravel and shrubs in front, and from the sitting-room +window up stairs a side-glance at the sea. From a few words that Mr. +Gardiner dropped, Bessie learned that it was theirs for twelve months, +until the following June; that it was very dear, but the cheapest place +they could get in Ryde fit to put their heads into; also that Ryde was +chosen as their home for a year because it was cheerful for "poor papa." + +Here was a family of indigent gentility, servile waiters upon the +accidents of Fortune, unable to work, but not ashamed to beg, as their +friends and kindred to the fourth degree could have plaintively +testified. It was a mystery to common folks how they lived and got +along. They were most agreeable and accomplished people, who knew +everybody and went everywhere. The daughters had taste and beauty. They +visited by turns at great houses, never both leaving their parents at +the same time; they wore pretty, even elegant clothing, and were always +ready to assist at amateur concerts, private theatricals, church +festivals, and other cheerful celebrations. Miss Julia Gardiner's voice +was an acquisition at an evening party; her elder sister's brilliant +touch on the piano was worth an invitation to the most select +entertainment. And besides this, there are rich, kind people about in +the world who are always glad to give poor girls, who are also nice, a +little amusement. And the Miss Gardiners were popular; they were very +sweet-tempered, lady-like, useful, and charming. + +Bessie Fairfax was an admirer of beauty in her own sex, and she could +scarcely take her eyes from the winsome fair face of Julia. It was a +very fair face, very lovely. After luncheon, at Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +request, she sang a new song that was lying on the piano; and they +talked of old songs which he professed to like better, which she said +she had forgotten. Mr. Gardiner had not come up stairs, and Mrs. +Gardiner, who had, soon disappeared. It was a narrow little room made +graceful with a few plants and ornaments and the working tools of +ladies; novels from the library were on the table and on the couch. A +word spoken there could not be spoken in secret. By and by, Helen, the +elder sister, proposed to take Bessie to the arcade. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +demurred, but acceded when it was added that "mamma" would go with them. +Mamma went, a weary, willing sacrifice; and in the arcade and in +somebody's pretty verandah they spent the hot afternoon until six +o'clock. When they returned to the house, Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Julia +were still together, and the new song on the desk of the piano had not +been moved to make room for any other. The gentleman appeared annoyed, +the lady weary and dejected. Bessie had no doubt that they were lovers +who had roughnesses in the course of their true love, and she +sentimentally wished them good-speed over all obstacles. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh rose as they entered, and said he would walk down the +pier with Miss Fairfax to restore her to the yacht, and Mr. Gardiner +bade Julia put on her hat and walk with them--it would refresh her after +staying all the hot afternoon in-doors. + +The pier was deserted now. The gay crowd had disappeared, the regatta +was over for the day, and the band silent. The glare of sunshine had +softened to a delicate amber glow, and the water was smooth, translucent +as a lake. The three walked at a pace, but were overtaken and passed by +two ladies in dark blue-braided serge dresses that cleared the ground as +they walked and fitted close to very well made figures. Their hats were +black-glazed and low-crowned, with a narrow blue ribbon lettered "Ariel" +in white and gold. + +"Look at those ladies," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh, suddenly breaking off +his talk with Julia to speak to Bessie; "that is the proper yachting +costume. You must have one before you come to Ryde in the Foam again." + +Bessie blushed; perhaps he had been ashamed of her. This was a most +afflicting, humiliating notion. She was delighted to see the boat from +the yacht waiting to take her off. She had imagined her own dress both +pretty and becoming--she knew that it had cost her months of patient +embroidering. Poor Bessie! she had much to learn yet of the fitness of +things, and of things in their right places. Miss Gardiner treated her +as very young, and only spoke to her of her school, from which she was +newly but fully and for ever emancipated. Incidentally, Bessie learned a +bit of news concerning one of her early comrades there. "Ada Hiloe was +at Madame Fournier's at Caen. Was it in your time? Did you know her?" +she was asked, and when she said that she did, Mr. Cecil Burleigh added +for information that the young lady was going to be married; so he had +heard in Paris from Mr. Chiverton. Julia instantly cried out, "Indeed! +to whom?" + +"To Mr. Chiverton himself." + +"That horrid old man! Oh, can it be true?" + +"He is very rich," was the quiet rejoinder, and both lapsed into +silence, until they had parted with their young companion. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh carefully enveloped Bessie in a cloak, Miss Gardiner +watching them. Then he bade her good-bye, with a reference to the +probability of his seeing her again soon at Abbotsmead. It was a +gracious good-bye, and effaced her slight discomfiture about her dress. +It even left her under the agreeable impression that he liked her in a +friendly way, his abrupt dicta on costume notwithstanding. A certain +amount of approbation from without was essential to Bessie's inner +peace. As the boat rowed off she waved her hand with rosy benignity to +the two looking after her departure. Mr. Cecil Burleigh raised his hat, +and they moved away. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_A LITTLE CHAPTER BY THE WAY._ + + +It must not be dissimulated what very dear friends Mr. Cecil Burleigh +and Miss Julia Gardiner were. They had known and loved one another for +six years as neither was ever likely to love again. They had been long +of convincing that a marriage was impossible between two such poor young +people--the one ambitious, the other fond of pleasure. They suited to a +nicety in character, in tastes, but they were agreed, at last, that +there must be an end to their philandering. No engagement had ever been +acknowledged. The young lady's parents had been indulgent to their +constant affection so long as there was hope, and it was a fact +generally recognized by Miss Julia Gardiner's friends that she cared +very much for Mr. Cecil Burleigh, because she had refused two eligible +offers--splendid offers for a girl in her position. A third was now open +to her, and without being urgent or unkind her mother sincerely wished +that she would accept it. Since the morning she had made up her mind to +do so. + +If the circumstances of these two had been what Elizabeth Fairfax +supposed, they would have spent some blessed hours together before dusk. +They stayed on the pier, and they talked, not of their love--they had +said all their say of love--but of Mr. Cecil Burleigh's flattering +prospects. When he stated that his expectations of getting a seat in the +House of Commons were based on the good-will of the Fairfax family and +connections, Julia was silent for several minutes. Then she remarked in +a gentle voice that Miss Fairfax was a handsome girl. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +acquiesced, and added that she was also amiable and intelligent. + +After that they walked home--to the dull little house in the by street, +that is. Mr. Cecil Burleigh refused to go in; and when the door closed +on Julia's "Good-bye, Cecil, goodbye, dear," he walked swiftly away to +his hotel, with the sensations of a man who is honestly miserable, and +also who has not dined. + +Julia sat by the open window until very late in the hot night, and Helen +with her, comforting her. + +"No, the years have not been thrown away! If I live to grow old I shall +still count them the best years of my life," said she with a pathetic +resignation. "I may have been sometimes out of spirits, but much oftener +I have been happy; what other joy have I ever had than Cecil's love? I +was eighteen when we met at that ball--you remember, Nell! Dear Cecil! I +adored him from the first kind word he gave me, and what a thrill I felt +to-day when I saw him coming!" + +"And he is to come no more?" inquired Helen softly. + +"No more as of old. Of course we shall see one another as people do who +live in the same world: I am not going into a nunnery. Cecil will be a +great man some day, and I shall recollect with pride that for six years +he loved only _me_. He did not mention Mr. Brotherton: I think he has +heard, but if not, he will hear soon enough from other people. If we +were not so awfully poor, Nell, or if poverty were not so dreadful to +mamma, I _never_ would marry--_never_ while Cecil is a bachelor." + +This was how Julia Gardiner announced that she meant to succumb to the +pressure of circumstances. Helen kissed her thankfully. She had been +very anxious for this consummation. It would be a substantial, permanent +benefit to them all if Julia married Mr. Brotherton. He had said that it +should be so, and he was a gentleman of good estate, and as generous as +he was wealthy, though very middle-aged, a widower with six children, +and as a lover not interesting perhaps. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh also sat at an open window, but he was not provided +with a confessor, only with a cigar. He had dined, and did not feel so +intensely miserable as he felt an hour ago. "Dear little Julia!" He +thought of her with caressing tenderness, her pretty looks, her graceful +ways, her sweet affection. "There were tears in her dove's eyes when she +said 'Good-bye, Cecil, good-bye, dear!'" No other woman would ever have +his heart. + +They had both good sense, and did not rail at evil fortune. It had done +neither any mischief to be absorbed in love of the other through the +most passionate years of their lives. Mrs. Gardiner had remonstrated +often and kindly against their folly, but had put no decisive _veto_ on +it, in the hope that they would grow out it. And, in a manner, they had +grown out of it. Six years ago, if they had been allowed, they would +have married without counting the cost; but those six years had brought +them experience of the world, of themselves, and of each other, and they +feared the venture. If Mr. Cecil Burleigh had been without ambition, his +secretaryship would have maintained them a modest home; but neither had +he a mind for the exclusive retired pleasures of the domestic hearth, +nor she the wish to forego the delights of society. There was no romance +in poverty for Julia Gardiner. It was too familiar; it signified to her +shifts, privations, expediencies, rude humiliations, and rebuffs. And +that was not the life for Mr. Cecil Burleigh. Their best friends said +so, and they acquiesced. From this it followed that the time was come +for them to part. Julia was twenty-four. The present opportunity of +settling herself by a desirable marriage lost, she might never have +another--might wear away youth, beauty, expectation, until no residuum +were left her but bitterness and regret. She would have risked it at a +word from Cecil, but that word was not spoken. He reasoned with himself +that he had no right to speak it. He was not prepared to give all for +love, though he keenly regretted what he resigned. He realized frankly +that he lost in losing Julia a true, warm sympathizer in his +aspirations, and a loving peace in his heart that had been a God's +blessing to him. Oh, if there had been only a little more money between +them! + +He reflected on many things, but on this most, and as he reflected there +came a doubt upon him whether it was well done to sever himself from the +dear repose he had enjoyed in loving her--whether there might not be a +more far-sighted prudence in marrying her than in letting her go. Men +have to ask their wives whether life shall be a success with them or +not. And Julia had been so much to him, so encouraging, such a treasure +of kindness! Whatever else he might win, without her he would always +miss something. His letters to her of six years were a complete history +of their course. Was it probable that he would ever be able to write so +to the rosy-cheeked little girl on board the Foam? Julia was equal with +him, a cultivated woman and a perfect companion. + +But what profit was there in going back upon it? They had determined +that it must not be. In a few days he was expected at Abbotsmead: +Norminster wanted to hear from him. A general election impended, and he +had been requested to offer himself as a candidate in the Conservative +interest for that ancient city. Mr. Fairfax was already busy in his +behalf, and Mr. John Short, the Conservative lawyer, was extremely +impatient for his appearance upon the stage of action. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +_A LOST OPPORTUNITY._ + + +Ryde looked beautiful the next morning from the deck of the Foam. The +mainland looked beautiful too, and Bessie, gazing that way, thought how +near she was to the Forest, until an irresistible longing to be there +overcame her reserve. She asked her uncle if the Foam was going to lie +long off Ryde. Why did she inquire? Because she should like to go to +Hampton by the boat, and to Beechhurst to see her friends, if only for +one single night. Before her humble petition was well past her lips the +tears were in her eyes, for she saw that it was not going to be granted. +Mr. Frederick Fairfax never risked being put out of his way, or made to +wait the convenience of others on his yachting cruises. He simply told +Bessie that she could not go, and added no reason why. But almost +immediately after he sent her on shore with Mrs. Betts to Morgan's to +buy a proper glazed hat and to be measured for a serge dress: that was +his way of diverting and consoling her. + +Bessie was glad enough to be diverted from the contemplation of her +disappointment. It was a very great pain indeed to be so near, and yet +so cut off from all she loved. The morning was fresh on the pier, and +many people were out inhaling the delicious salt breezes. A clergyman, +wielding a slim umbrella and carrying a black bag and an overcoat, came +lurching along. Bessie recognized Mr. Askew Wiley, and was so overjoyed +to see anybody who came from home that she rushed up to him: "Oh, Mr. +Wiley! how do you do? Are you going back to Beechhurst?" she cried +breathless. + +"Bessie Fairfax, surely? How you are grown!" said he, and shook hands. +"Yes, Bessie, I am on my way now to catch the boat. If you want to hear +about your people, you must turn back with me, for I have not a minute +to spare." + +Bessie turned back: "Will you please tell them I am on board the Foam, +my uncle Frederick's yacht? I cannot get away to see them, and I don't +know how long we shall stay here, but if they could come over to see +me!" she urged wistfully. + +"It sounds like tempting them to a wild-goose chase, Bessie. Yachts that +are here to-day are gone to-morrow. By the time they arrive you may have +sailed off to Cowes or to Yarmouth. But I will give your message. How +came you on board a yacht?" + +Bessie got no more information from the rector; he had the same +catechising habit as his good wife, and wanted to know her news. She +gave it freely, and then they were at the end of the pier, and there was +the Hampton boat ringing its bell to start. "Are you going straight +home? Will you tell them at once?" Bessie ventured to say again as Mr. +Wiley went down the gangway. + +"Yes. I expect to find the carriage waiting for me at Hampton," was the +response. + +"They might even come by the afternoon boat," cried Bessie as a last +word, and the rector said, "Yes." + +It was with a lightened heart and spirits exhilarated that Bessie +retraced her steps up the pier. "It was such a good opportunity!" said +she, congratulating herself. + +"Yes, if the gentleman don't forget," rejoined Mrs. Betts. + +But, alas! that was just what the gentleman did. He forgot until his +remembering was too late to be of any purpose. He forgot until the next +Sunday when he was in the reading-desk, and saw Mrs. Carnegie sitting in +front of him with a restless boy on either hand. He felt a momentary +compunction, but that also, as well as the cause of it, went out of his +head with the end of his sermon, and the conclusion of the matter was +that he never delivered the message Bessie had given him on Ryde pier at +all. + +Bessie, however, having a little confidence in him, unwittingly enjoyed +the pleasures of hope all that day and the next. On the second evening +she was a trifle downhearted. The morning after she awoke with another +prospect before her eyes--a beautiful bay, with houses fringing its +shores and standing out on its cliffs, and verdure to the water's edge. +Mrs. Betts told her these villages were Sandown and Shanklyn. The yacht +was scudding along at a famous rate. They passed Luccombe with its few +cottages nestling at the foot of the chine, then Bonchurch and Ventnor. +"It would be very pleasant living at sea in fine weather, if only one +had what one wants," Bessie said. + +The following day the yacht was off Ryde again, and Bessie went to walk +on the pier in her close-fitting serge costume and glazed hat, feeling +very barefaced and evident, she assured Mrs. Betts, who tried to +convince her that the style of dress was exceedingly becoming to her, +and made her appear taller. Bessie was, indeed, a very pretty middle +height now, and her shining hair, clear-cut features, and complexion of +brilliant health constituted her a very handsome girl. + +Almost the first people she met were the Gardiners. "Mr. Cecil Burleigh +went to London this morning," Miss Julia told her. The elder sister +asked if she was coming to the flower-show in Appley Gardens in the +afternoon or the regatta ball that night. + +Bessie said, "No, oh, no! she had never been to a ball in her life." + +"But you might go with us to the flower-show," said Julia. She thought +it would please Mr. Cecil Burleigh if a little attention were shown to +Miss Fairfax. + +Bessie did not know what to answer: she looked at her strange clothing, +and said suddenly, No, she thanked them, but she could not go. They +quite understood. + +Just at that moment came bearing down upon them Miss Buff, fat, loud, +jolly as ever. "It _is_ Bessie Fairfax! I was sure it was," cried she; +and Bessie rushed straight into her open arms with responsive joy. + +When she came to herself the Gardiners were gone. "Never mind, you are +sure to meet them again; they are always about Ryde somewhere," Miss +Buff said. "How delightful it is to see you, Bessie! And quite yourself! +Not a bit altered--only taller!" And then they found a sheltered seat, +and Bessie, still quivering with her happy surprise, began to ask +questions. + +"We have come from Beechhurst this morning, my niece Louy and myself," +was Miss Buff's answer to the first. "We started at six, to be in time +for the eight o'clock boat: the flower-show and the regatta ball have +brought us. I hope you are going to both? No? What a pity! I never miss +a ball for Louy if I can help it." + +Bessie briefly explained herself and her circumstances, and asked when +her friend had last seen any of Mr. Carnegie's family. + +"I saw Mrs. Carnegie yesterday to inquire if I could do anything for her +at Hampton. She looked very well." + +"And did she say nothing of me?" cried Bessie in consternation. + +"Not a word. She mentioned some time ago how sorry they all were not to +have you at home for a little while before you are carried away to +Woldshire." + +"Then Mr. Wiley has never given them my message! Oh, how unkind!" Bessie +was fit to cry for vexation and self-reproach, for why had she not +written? Why had she trusted anybody when there was a post? + +"You might as well pour water into a sieve, and expect it to stay there, +as expect Mr. Wiley to remember anything that does not concern himself," +said Miss Buff. "But it is not too late yet, perhaps? When do you leave +Ryde?" + +"It is all uncertain: it is just as the wind blows and as my uncle +fancies," replied Bessie despondently. + +"Then write--write at once, and telegraph. Do both. There is Smith's +bookstall. They will let you have a sheet of paper, and I always carry +stamps." Miss Buff was prompt in action. Six lines were written for the +post and one line for the telegraph, and both were despatched in ten +minutes or less. "Now all is done that can be done to remedy yesterday +and ensure to-morrow: some of them are certain to appear in the morning. +Make your mind easy. Come back to our seat and tell me all about +yourself." + +Bessie's cheerfulness revived under the brisk influence of her friend, +and she was ready to give an epitome of her annals, or a forecast of her +hopes, or (which she much preferred) to hear the chronicles of +Beechhurst. Miss Buff was the best authority for the village politics +that she could have fallen in with. She knew everything that went on in +the parish--not quite accurately perhaps, but accurately enough for +purposes of popular information and gossip. + +"Well, my dear, Miss Thusy O'Flynn is gone, for one good thing," she +began with a _verve_ that promised thoroughness. "And we are to have a +new organ in the church, for another: it has been long enough talked +about. Old Phipps set his face dead against it until we got the money in +hand; we have got it, but not until we are all at daggers drawn. He told +Lady Latimer that we ought to keep our liberal imaginations in check by +a system of cash payments." + +"Our friend has a disagreeable trick of being right," said Bessie +laughing. + +"He has his uses, but I cannot bear him. I don't know who is to +blame--whether it is Miss Wort or Lady Latimer--but there is no peace at +Beechhurst now for begging. They have plenty of money, and little enough +to do with it. I call _giving_ the greatest of luxuries, but, bless you! +giving is not all charity. Miss Wort spends a fortune in eleemosynary +physic to half poison poor folks; Lady Latimer indulges herself in a +variety of freaks: her last was a mechanical leg for old Bumpus, who had +been happy on a wooden peg for forty years; we were all asked to +subscribe, and he doesn't thank us for it. As soon as one thing is done +with, up starts another that we are entreated to be interested +in--things we don't care about one bit. Old Phipps protests that it is +vanity and busy-bodyism. I hope I shall never grow so hard-hearted as to +see a poor soul want and not help her, but I hate to be canvassed for +alms on behalf of other people's benevolent objects--don't you?" + +"It has never happened to me. I remember that my father used to appeal +to Lady Latimer and Miss Wort when his poor patients had not fit diet. +Lady Latimer was his chief Lady Bountiful." + +"That may be true, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing. +I love fair play. The schools, now--they were very good schools before +ever she came into the Forest; yes, as far back as your father's time, +Bessie Fairfax--and yet, to hear the way in which she is belauded by a +certain set, one might suppose that she had been the making of them. But +it is the same all the world over--a hundred hands do the work, and one +name gets all the praise!" Miss Buff was growing warm over her +reminiscences, but catching the spark of mischief in Bessie's eyes, she +laughed, and added with great candor: "Yes, I confess there is a spice +of rivalry between us, but I am very fond of her all the same." + +"Oh yes. She loves to rule, but then she has the talent," pleaded +Bessie. + +"No, my dear, there you are mistaken. She is too fussy; she irritates +people. But for the old admiral she would often get into difficulties. +Beechhurst has taken to ladies' meetings and committees, and all sorts +of fudge that she is the moving spirit of. I often wish we were back in +the quiet, times when dear old Hutton was rector, and would not let her +be always interfering. I suppose it comes of this new doctrine of the +equality of the sexes; but I say they never will be equal till women +consent to be frights. It gives a man an immense pull over us to clap on +his hat without mounting up stairs to the looking-glass: while we are +getting ready to go and do a thing, he has gone and done it. You hear +Lady Latimer's name at every turn, but the old admiral is the backbone +of Beechhurst, as he always was, and old Phipps is his right hand." + +"And Mr. Musgrave and my father?" queried Bessie. + +"They do their part, but it is so unobtrusively that one forgets them; +but they would be missed if they were not there. Mr. Musgrave has a +great deal of influence amongst his own class--the farmers and those +people. Of course, you have heard how wonderfully his son is getting on +at college? Oh, my dear, what a stir there was about his running over to +Normandy after you!" + +"Dear Harry! I saw him again quite lately. He came to see me at Bayeux," +said Bessie with a happy sigh. + +"Did he? we never heard of that. He is at home now: perhaps he will come +over with them to-morrow, eh?" + +"I wish he would," was Bessie's frank rejoinder. + +"And who else is there that you used to like? Fanny Mitten has married a +clerk in the Hampton Bank, and Miss Ely is married; but she was married +in London. I was in great hopes once that old Phipps would take Miss +Thusy O'Flynn, and a sweet pair they would have been; but he thought +better of it, and she went away as she came. Her aunt was a good old +soul, and what did it matter if she was vulgar? We were very sorry to +lose her contralto in the choir." Miss Buff's gossip was almost run out. +Bessie remembered little Christie to inquire for him. "Little +Christie--who is he? I never heard of him. Oh, the wheelwright's son who +went away to be an artist! I don't know. The old man made me a +garden-barrow once, and charged me enormously; and when I told him it +was too dear, he said it would last me my life. Such impertinence! The +common people grow very independent." + +Bessie had heard the anecdote of the garden-barrow before. It spoke +volumes for the peace and simplicity of Miss Buff's life that she still +recollected and cited this ancient grievance. A few more words of the +doctor and his household, a few doubts and fears on Bessie's part that +her telegram might be delayed, and a few cheery predictions on Miss +Buff's, and they said good-bye, with the expression of a cordial hope +that they might meet soon again, and meet in the Forest. Bessie Fairfax +was amused and exhilarated by this familiar tattle about her beloved +Beechhurst. It had dissipated the shadows of her three years' absence, +and made home present to her once more. Nothing seems trivial that +concerns places and people dear to young affections, and all the keener +became her desire to be amongst them. She consulted Smith's boy as to +the probable time of the arrival of her telegram at the doctor's house; +she studied the table of the steamboats. She regretted bitterly that she +had not written the first day at Ryde; then pleaded her own excuse +because letters were a rarity for her to write, and had hitherto +required a formal permission. + +Mrs. Betts lingered with her long and patiently upon the pier, but the +Gardiners did not come down again, and by and by Mrs. Betts, feeling the +approach of dinner-time, began to look out towards the yacht. After a +minute's steady observation she said, half to herself, but seriously, "I +do believe they are making ready to sail. There is a boat alongside with +bread and things." + +"To sail! To leave Ryde! Oh, don't you think my uncle would wait a day +if I begged him?" cried Bessie in acute dismay. + +"No, miss--not if he has given orders and the wind keeps fair. If I was +in your place, miss, I should not ask him. And as for the telegram, I +should not name it. It would put Mr. Frederick out, and do no good." + +Bessie did not name it. Mrs. Betts's speculation proved correct. The +yacht sailed away in the afternoon. About the time when Mrs. Carnegie +was hurriedly dressing to drive with her husband to Hampton over-night, +to ensure not missing the mail-boat to Ryde in the morning, that gay and +pleasant town was fast receding from Bessie's view. At dawn the island +was out of sight, and when Mr. Carnegie, landing on the pier, sought a +boat to carry him and his wife to the Foam, a boatman looked up at him +and said, "The Foam, sir? You'll have much ado to overtake her. She's +halfway to Hastings by this time. She sailed yesterday soon after five +o'clock." + +Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie turned away in silence. They had nothing to do but +sorrowfully to repair home again. They were more grieved at heart by +this disappointment than by any that had preceded it; and all the more +did they try to cheer one another. + +"Don't fret, Jane: it hurts me to see you fret," said the doctor. "It +was a nice thought in Bessie, but the chance was a poor one." + +"We have lost her, Thomas; I fear we have lost her," said his wife. "It +is unnatural to pass by our very door, so to speak, and not let us see +her. But I don't blame her." + +"No, no, Bessie is not to blame: Harry Musgrave can tell us better than +that. It is Mr. Fairfax--his orders. He forbade her coming, or it might +have been managed easily. It is a mistake. He will never win her heart +so; and as for ruling her except through her affections, he will have a +task. I'm sorry, for the child will not be happy." + +When Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie arrived at home they found Bessie's letter +that had come by post--an abrupt, warm little letter that comforted them +for themselves, but troubled them for her exceedingly. "God bless her, +dear child!" said her mother. "I am afraid she will cry sadly, Thomas, +and nobody to say a loving word to her or give her a kiss." + +"It is a pity; she will have her share of vexations. But she is young +and can bear them, with all her life before her. We will answer that +pretty letter, that she may have something to encourage her when she +gets amongst her grand relations. I suppose it may be a week or ten days +first. We have done what we could, Jane, so cheer up, and let it rest." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +_BESSIE'S BRINGING HOME._ + + +When Bessie Fairfax realized that the yacht was sailing away from Ryde +not to return, and carrying her quite out of reach of pursuit, her +spirits sank to zero. It was a perfect evening, and the light on the +water was lovely, but to her it was a most melancholy view--when she +could see it for the mist that obscured her vision. All her heart +desired was being left farther and farther behind, and attraction there +was none in Woldshire to which she was going. She looked at her uncle +Frederick, silent, absent, sad; she remembered her grandfather, cold, +sarcastic, severe; and every ensuing day she experienced fits of +dejection or fits of terror and repulsion, to which even the most +healthy young creatures are liable when they find themselves cut adrift +from what is dear and familiar. Happily, these fits were intermittent, +and at their worst easily diverted by what interested her on the voyage; +and she did not encourage the murky humor: she always tried to shake it +off and feel brave, and especially she made the effort as the yacht drew +towards its haven. It was her nature to struggle against gloom and pain +for a clear outlook at her horizon, and Madame Fournier had not failed +to supply her with moral precepts for sustenance when cast on the shore +of a strange and indifferent society. + +The Foam touched at Hastings, at Dover, at semi-Dutch Harwich, and then +no more until it put into Scarcliffe Bay. Here Bessie's sea-adventures +ended. She went ashore and walked with her uncle on the bridge, gazing +about with frank, unsophisticated eyes. The scenery and the weather were +beautiful. Mr. Frederick Fairfax had many friends now at Scarcliffe, the +favorite sea-resort of the county people. Greetings met him on every +hand, and Bessie was taken note of. "My niece Elizabeth." Her history +was known, kindness had been bespoken for her, her prospects were +anticipated by a prescient few. + +At length one acquaintance gave her uncle news: "The squire and your +brother are both in the town. I fell in with them at the bank less than +an hour ago." + +"That is good luck: then we will go into the town and find them." And he +moved off with alacrity, as if in sight of the end of an irksome duty. +Bessie inquired if her uncle was going forward to Abbotsmead, to which +he replied that he was not; he was going across to Norway to make the +most of the fine weather while it lasted. He might be at horns in the +winter, but his movements were always uncertain. + +Mr. Fairfax came upon them suddenly out of the library. "Eh! here you +are! We heard that the Foam was in," said he, and shook hands with his +eldest son as if he had been parted with only yesterday. Then he spoke a +few words to Bessie, rather abruptly, but with a critical observance of +her: she had outgrown his recollection, and was more of a woman than he +had anticipated. He walked on without any attempt at conversation until +they met a third, a tall man with a fair beard, whom her grandfather +named as "Your uncle Laurence, Elizabeth." And she had seen all her +Woldshire kinsmen. For a miracle, she was able to put as cool a face +upon her reception as the others did. A warm welcome would have brought +her to tears and smiles, but its quiet formality subdued emotion and set +her features like a handsome mask. She was too composed. Pride tinged +with resentment simulates dignified composure very well for a little +while, but only for a little while when there is a heart behind. + +They went walking hither and thither about the steep, windy streets. +Bessie fell behind. Now and then there was an encounter with other +gentlemen, brief, energetic speech, inquiry and answer, sally and +rejoinder, all with one common subject of interest--the Norminster +election. Scarcliffe is a fine town, and there was much gay company +abroad that afternoon, but Bessie was too miserable to be amused. Her +uncle Laurence was the one of the party who was so fortunate as to +discover this. He turned round on a sudden recollection of his stranger +niece, and surprised a most desolate look on her rosy face. Bessie +confessed her feelings by the grateful humility of her reply to his +considerate proposal that they should turn in at a confectioner's they +were passing and have a cup of tea. + +"My father is as full of this election as if he were going to contest +the city of Norminster himself," said he. "I hope you have a blue +bonnet? You will have to play your part. Beautiful ladies are of great +service in these affairs." + +Bessie had not a blue bonnet; her bonnet was white chip and pink +may--the enemy's colors. She must put it by till the end of the war. Tea +and thick bread and butter were supplied to the hungry couple, and +about four o'clock Mr. Fairfax called for them and hurried them off to +the train. Mr. Laurence went on to Norminster, dropping the squire and +Elizabeth at Mitford Junction. Thence they had a drive of four miles +through a country of long-backed, rounded hills, ripening cornfields, +and meadows green with the rich aftermath, and full of cattle. The sky +above was high and clear, the air had a crispness that was exhilarating. +The sun set in scarlet splendor, and the reflection of its glory was +shed over the low levels of lawn, garden, and copse, which, lying on +either side of a shallow, devious river, kept still the name of +Abbotsmead that had belonged to them before the great monastery at +Kirkham was dissolved. + +Mr. Fairfax was in good-humor now, and recovered from his momentary loss +of self-possession at the sight of his granddaughter so thoroughly grown +up. Also, election business at Norminster was going as he would have it, +and bowling smoothly along in the quiet, early evening he had time to +think of Elizabeth, sitting bolt upright in the carriage beside him. She +had a pretty, pensive air, for which he saw no cause--only the +excitement of novelty staved off depression--and in his sarcastic vein, +with doubtful compliment, he said, "I did not expect to see you grown so +tall, Elizabeth. You look as healthy as a milkmaid." + +She was very quick and sensitive of feeling. She understood him +perfectly, and replied that she _was_ as healthy as a milkmaid. Then she +reverted to her wistful contemplation of the landscape, and tried to +think of that and not of herself, which was too pathetic. + +This country was not so lovely as the Forest. It had only the beauty of +high culture. Human habitations were too wide-scattered, and the +trees--there were no very great trees, nor any blue glimpses of the sea. +Nevertheless, when the carriage turned into the domain at a pretty +rustic lodge, the overarching gloom of an avenue of limes won Bessie's +admiration, and a few fir trees standing in single grace near the ruins +of the abbey, which they had to pass on their way to the house, she +found almost worthy to be compared with the centenarians of the Forest. +The western sun was still upon the house itself. The dusk-tiled mansard +roof, pierced by two rows of twinkling dormers, and crowned by solid +chimney-stacks, bulked vast and shapely against the primrose sky, and +the stone-shafted lower windows caught many a fiery reflection in their +blackness. Through a porch broad and deep, and furnished with oaken +seats, Bessie preceded her grandfather into a lofty and spacious hall, +where the foot rang on the bare, polished boards, and ten generations of +Fairfaxes, successive dwellers in the grand old house, looked down from +the walls. It was not lighted except by the sunset, which filled it with +a warm and solemn glow. + +Numerous servants appeared, amongst them a plump functionary in blue +satinette and a towering cap, who curtseyed to Elizabeth and spoke some +words of real welcome: "I'm right glad to see you back, Miss Fairfax; +these arms were the first that held you." Bessie's impulse was to fall +on the neck of this kindly personage with kisses and tears, but her +grandfather's cool tone intervening maintained her reserve: + +"Your young mistress will be pleased to go to her room, Macky. Your +reminiscences will keep till to-morrow." + +Macky, instantly obedient, begged Miss Fairfax to "come this way," and +conducted her through a double-leaved door that stood open to the inner +hall, carpeted with crimson pile, like the wide shallow stairs that went +up to the gallery surrounding the greater hall. On this gallery opened +many doors of chambers long silent and deserted. + +"The master ordered you the white suite," announced Macky, ushering +Elizabeth into the room so called. "It has pretty prospects, and the +rooms are not such wildernesses as the other state-apartments. The +eldest unmarried lady of the family always occupied the white suite." + +A narrow ante-room, a sitting-room, a bed-room, and off it a +sleeping-closet for her maid,--this was the private lodging accorded to +the new daughter of the house. Bessie gazed about, taking in a general +impression of faded, delicate richness, of white and gold and sparse +color, in elegant, antiquated taste, like a boudoir in an old Norman +château that she had visited. + +"Mrs. Betts was so thoughtful as to come on by an earlier train to get +unpacked and warn us to be prepared," Macky observed in a respectful +explanatory tone; and then she went on to offer her good wishes to the +young lady she had nursed, in the manner of an old and trusted dependant +of the family. "It is fine weather and a fine time of year, and we hope +and pray all of us, Miss Fairfax, as this will be a blessed +bringing-home for you and our dear master. Most of us was here servants +when Mr. Geoffry, your father, went south. A cheerful, pleasant +gentleman he was, and your mamma as pleasant a lady. And here is Mrs. +Betts to wait on you." + +Bessie thanked the old woman, and would have bidden her remain and talk +on about her forgotten parents, but Macky with another curtsey retired, +and Mrs. Betts, calm and peremptory, proceeded to array her young lady +in her prize-day muslin dress, and sent her hastily down stairs under +the guidance of a little page who loitered in the gallery. At the foot +of the stairs a lean, gray-headed man in black received her, and ushered +her into a beautiful octagon-shaped room, all garnished with books and +brilliant with light, where her grandfather was waiting to conduct her +to dinner. So much ceremony made Bessie feel as if she was acting a part +in a play. Since Macky's kind greeting her spirits had risen, and her +countenance had cleared marvellously. + +Mr. Fairfax was standing opposite the door when she appeared. "Good God! +it is Dolly!" he exclaimed, visibly startled. Dolly was his sister +Dorothy, long since dead. Not only in face and figure, but in a certain +lightness of movement and a buoyant swift way of stepping towards him, +Elizabeth recalled her. Perhaps there was something in the simplicity of +her dress too: there on the wall was a pretty miniature of her +great-aunt in blue and white and golden flowing hair to witness the +resemblance. Mr. Fairfax pointed it out to his granddaughter, and then +they went to dinner. + +It was a very formal ceremonial, and rather tedious to the +newly-emancipated school-girl. Jonquil served his master when he was +alone, but this evening he was reinforced by a footman in blue and +silver, by way of honor to the young lady. Elizabeth faced her +grandfather across a round table. A bowl-shaped chandelier holding +twelve wax-lights hung from the groined ceiling above the rose-decked +_épergne_, making a bright oasis in the centre of a room gloomy rather +from the darkness of its fittings than from the insufficiency of +illumination. Under the soft lustre the plate, precious for its antique +beauty, the quaint cut glass, and old blue china enriched with gold were +displayed to perfection. Bessie had a taste, her eye was gratified, +there was repose in all this splendor. But still she felt that odd +sensation of acting in a comedy which would be over as soon as the +lights were out. Suddenly she recollected the bare board in the Rue St. +Jean, the coarse white platters, the hunches of sour bread, the lenten +soup, the flavorless _bouilli_, and sighed--sighed audibly, and when her +grandfather asked her why that mournful sound, she told him. Her courage +never forsook her long. + +"It has done you no harm to sup your share of Spartan broth; hard living +is good for us young," was the squire's comment. "You never +complained--your dry little letters always confessed to excellent +health. When I was at school we fed roughly. The joints were cut into +lumps which had all their names, and we were in honor bound not to pick +and choose, but to strike with the fork and take what came up." + +"Of course," said Bessie, pricked in her pride and conscience lest she +should seem to be weakly complaining now--"of course we had treats +sometimes. On madame's birthday we had a glass of white wine at dinner, +which was roast veal and pancakes. And on our own birthdays we might +have _galette_ with sugar, if we liked to give Margotin the money." + +"I trust the whole school had _galette_ with sugar on your birthday, +Elizabeth?" said her grandfather, quietly amused. He was relieved to +find her younger, more child-like in her ideas, than her first +appearance gave him hopes of. His manner relaxed, his tone became +indulgent. When she smiled with a blush, she was his sweet sister Dolly; +when her countenance fell grave again, she was the shy, touchy, +uncertain little girl who had gone to Fairfield on their first +acquaintance so sorely against her inclination. After Jonquil and his +assistant retired, Elizabeth was invited to tell how the time had passed +on board the Foam. + +"Pleasantly, on the whole," she said. "The weather was so fine that we +were on deck from morning till night, and often far on into the night +when the moon shone. It was delightful cruising off the Isle of Wight; +only I had an immense disappointment there." + +"What was that?" Mr. Fairfax asked, though he had a shrewd guess. + +"I did not remember how easy it is to send a letter--not being used to +write without leave--and I trusted Mr. Wiley, whom I met on Ryde pier +going straight back to Beechhurst, with a message to them at home, which +he forgot to deliver. And though I did write after, it was too late, for +we left Ryde the same day. So I lost the opportunity of seeing my father +and mother. It was a pity, because we were so near; and I was all the +more sorry because it was my own fault." + +Mr. Fairfax was silent for a few minutes after this bold confession. He +had interdicted any communication with the Forest, as Mr. Carnegie +prevised. He did not, however, consider it necessary to provoke Bessie's +ire by telling her that he was responsible for her immense +disappointment. He let that pass, and when he spoke again it was to draw +her out on the more important subject of what progress Mr. Cecil +Burleigh had made in her interest. It was truly vexatious, but as Bessie +told her simple tale she was conscious that her color rose and deepened +slowly to a burning blush. Why? She vehemently assured herself that she +did not care a straw for Mr. Cecil Burleigh, that she disliked him +rather than otherwise, yet at the mere sound of his name she blushed. +Perhaps it was because she dreaded lest anybody should suspect the +mistake her vanity had made before. Her grandfather gave her one acute +glance, and was satisfied that this business also went well. + +"Mr. Cecil Burleigh left the yacht at Ryde. It was the first day of the +regatta when we anchored there, and we landed and saw the town," was all +Bessie said in words, but her self-betrayal was eloquent. + +"We--what do you mean by _we_? Did your uncle Frederick land?" asked the +squire, not caring in the least to know. + +"No--only Mr. Cecil Burleigh and myself. We went to the house of some +friends of his where we had lunch; and afterward Mrs. Gardiner and one +of the young ladies took me to the Arcade. My uncle never landed at all +from the day we left Caen till we arrived at Scarcliffe. Mrs. Betts went +into Harwich with me. That is a very quaint old town, but nothing in +England looks so battered and decayed as the French cities do." + +Mr. Fairfax knew all about Miss Julia Gardiner, and Elizabeth's +information that Mr. Cecil Burleigh had called on the family in Ryde +caused him to reflect. It was very imprudent to take Elizabeth with +him--very imprudent indeed; of course, the squire could not know how +little he was to blame. To take her mind off the incident that seriously +annoyed himself, he asked what troubles Caen had seen, and Bessie, +thankful to discourse of something not confusing, answered him like a +book: + +"Oh, many. It is very impoverished and dilapidated. The revocation of +the Edict of Nantes ruined its trade. Its principal merchants were +Huguenots: there are still amongst the best families some of the +Reformed religion. Then in the great Revolution it suffered again; the +churches were desecrated, and turned to all manner of common uses; some +are being restored, but I myself have seen straw hoisted in at a church +window, beautiful with flamboyant tracery in the arch, the shafts below +being partly broken away." + +Mr. Fairfax remarked that France was too prone to violent remedies; then +reverting to the subjects uppermost in his thoughts, he said, "Elections +and politics cannot have much interest for you yet, Elizabeth, but +probably you have heard that Mr. Cecil Burleigh is going to stand for +Norminster?" + +"Yes; he spoke of it to my uncle Frederick. He is a very liberal +Conservative, from what I heard him say. There was a famous contest for +Hampton when I was not more than twelve years old: we went to see the +members chaired. My father was orange--the Carnegies are almost +radicals; they supported Mr. Hiloe--and we wore orange rosettes." + +"A most unbecoming color! You must take up with blue now; blue is the +only wear for a Fairfax. Most men might wear motley for a sign of their +convictions. Let us return to the octagon parlor; it is cheerful with a +fire after dinner. At Abbotsmead there are not many evenings when a fire +is not acceptable at dusk." + +The fire was very acceptable; it was very composing and pleasant. Bright +flashes of flame kindled and reddened the fragrant dry pine chips and +played about the lightly-piled logs. Mr. Fairfax took his own +commodious chair on one side of the hearth, facing the uncurtained +windows; a low seat confronted him for Bessie. Both were inclined to be +silent, for both were full of thought. The rich color and gilding of the +volumes that filled the dwarf bookcases caught the glow, as did +innumerable pretty objects besides--water-color drawings on the walls, +mirrors that reflected the landscape outside, statuettes in shrines of +crimson fluted silk--but the prettiest object by far in this dainty +lady's chamber was still Bessie Fairfax, in her white raiment and +rippled, shining hair. + +This was her grandfather's reflection, and again that impulse to love +her that he had felt at Beechhurst long ago began to sway his feelings. +It was on the cards that he might become to her a most indulgent, fond +old man; but then Elizabeth must be submissive, and do his will in great +things if he allowed her to rule in small. Bessie had dropt her mask and +showed her bright face, at peace for the moment; but it was shadowed +again by the resurrection of all her wrongs when her grandfather said on +bidding her good-night, "Perhaps, Elizabeth, the assurance that will +tend most to promote your comfort at Abbotsmead, to begin with, is that +you have a perfect right to be here." + +Her astonishment was too genuine to be hidden. Did her grandfather +imagine that she was flattered by her domicile in his grand house? It +was exile to her quite as much as the old school at Caen. Nothing had +ever occurred to shake her original conviction that she was cruelly used +in being separated from her friends in the Forest. _They_ were her +family--not these strangers. Bessie dropped him her embarrassed +school-girl's curtsey, and said, "Good-night, sir"--not even a Thank +you! Mr. Fairfax thought her manner abrupt, but he did not know the +depth and tenacity of her resentment, or he would have recognized the +blunder he had committed in bringing her into Woldshire with unsatisfied +longings after old, familiar scenes. + +Bessie was of a thoroughly healthy nature and warmly affectionate. She +felt very lonely and unfriended; she wished that her grandfather had +said he was glad to have her at Abbotsmead, instead of telling her that +she had a _right_ to be there; but she was also very tired, and sleep +soon prevailed over both sweet and bitter fancies. Premature resolutions +she made none; she had been warned against them by Madame Fournier as +mischievous impediments to making the best of life, which is so much +less often "what we could wish than what we must even put up with." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_THE NEXT MORNING._ + + +Perplexities and distressed feelings notwithstanding, Bessie Fairfax +awoke at an early hour perfectly rested and refreshed. In the east the +sun was rising in glory. A soft, bluish haze hung about the woods, a +thick dew whitened the grass. She rose to look out of the window. + +"It is going to be a lovely day," she said, and coiled herself in a +cushioned chair to watch the dawn advancing. + +All the world was hushed and silent yet. Slowly the light spread over +the gardens, over the meadows and cornfields, chasing away the shadows +and revealing the hues of shrub and flower. A reach of the river stole +into view, and the red roof of an old mill on its banks. Then there was +a musical, monotonous, reiterated call not far off which roused the +cattle, and brought them wending leisurely towards the milking-shed. The +crowing of cocks near and more remote, the chirping of little birds +under the eaves, began and increased. A laborer, then another, on their +way to work, passed within sight along a field-path leading to the mill; +a troop of reapers came by the same road. Then there was the pleasant +sound of sharpening a scythe, and Bessie saw a gardener on the lawn +stoop to his task. + +She returned to her pillow, and slept again until she was awakened by +somebody coming to her bedside. It was Mrs. Betts, bearing in her hands +one of those elegant china services for a solitary cup of tea which have +popularized that indulgence amongst ladies. + +"What is it?" Bessie asked, gazing with a puzzled air at the tiny +turquoise-blue vessels. "Tea? I am going to get up to breakfast." + +"Certainly, miss, I hope so. But it is a custom with many young ladies +to have a cup of tea before dressing." + +"I will touch my bell if I want anything. No--no tea, thank you," +responded Bessie; and the waiting-woman felt herself dismissed. Bessie +chose to make and unmake her toilette alone. It was easy to see that her +education had not been that of a young lady of quality, for she was +quite independent of her maid; but Mrs. Betts was a woman of experience +and made allowance for her, convinced that, give her time, she would be +helpless and exacting enough. + +Mr. Fairfax and his granddaughter met in the inner hall with a polite +"Good-morning." Elizabeth looked shyly proud, but sweet as a dewy rose. +The door of communication with the great hall was thrown wide open. It +was all in cool shade, redolent of fresh air and the perfume of flowers. +Jonquil waited to usher them to breakfast, which was laid in the room +where they had dined last night. + +Mr. Fairfax was never a talker, but he made an effort on behalf of +Bessie, with whom it was apparently good manners not to speak until she +was spoken to. "What will you do, Elizabeth, by way of making +acquaintance with your home? Will you have Macky with her legends of +family history and go over the house, or will you take a turn outside +with me and visit the stables?" + +Bessie knew which it was her duty to prefer, and fortunately her duty +tallied with her inclination; her countenance beamed, and she said, "I +will go out with you, if you please." + +"You ride, I know. There is a nice little filly breaking in for you: you +must name her, as she is to be yours." + +"May I call her Janey?" + +"Janey! Was that the name of Mr. Carnegie's little mare?" + +"No; she was Miss Hoyden. Janey was the name of my first friend at +school. She went away soon, and I have never heard of her since. But I +shall: I often think of her." + +"You have a constant memory, Elizabeth--not the best memory for your +happiness. What are you eating? Only bread and butter. Will you have no +sardines, bacon, eggs, honey? Nothing! A very abstemious young lady! You +have done with school, and may wean yourself from school-fare." + +Breakfast over, Mrs. Betts brought her young lady's leghorn hat and a +pair of new Limerick gauntlet-gloves--nice enough for Sunday in Bessie's +modest opinion, but as they were presented for common wear she put them +on and said nothing. Mr. Fairfax conducted his granddaughter to his +private room, which had a lobby and porch into the garden, and twenty +paces along the wall a door into the stable-yard. The groom who had the +nice little filly in charge to train was just bringing her out of her +stable. + +"There is your Janey, Elizabeth," said her grandfather. + +"Oh, what a darling!" cried Bessie in a voice that pleased him, as the +pretty creature began to dance and prance and sidle and show off her +restive caprices, making the groom's mounting her for some minutes +impracticable. + +"It is only her play, miss--she ain't no vice at all," the man said, +pleading her excuses. "She'll be as dossil as dossil can be when I've +give her a gallop. But this is her of a morning--so fresh there's no +holding her." + +Another groom had come to aid, and at length the first was seated firm +in the saddle, with a flowing skirt to mimic the lady that Janey was to +carry. And with a good deal of manoeuvring they got safe out of the +yard. + +"You would like to follow and see? Come, then," said the squire, and led +Bessie by a short cut across the gardens to the park. Janey was flying +like the wind over the level turf, but she was well under guidance, and +when her rider brought her round to the spot where Mr. Fairfax and the +young lady stood to watch, she quite bore out his encomium on her +docility. She allowed Bessie to stroke her neck, and even took from her +hand an apple which the groom produced from a private store of +encouragement and reward in his pocket. + +"It will be well to give her a good breathing before Miss Fairfax mounts +her, Ranby," said his master, walking round her approvingly. Then to +Bessie he said, "Do you know enough of horses not to count rashness +courage, Elizabeth?" + +"I am ready to take your word or Ranby's for what is venturesome," was +Bessie's moderate reply. "My father taught me to ride as soon as I could +sit, so that I have no fear. But I am out of practice, for I have never +ridden since I went to Caen." + +"You must have a new habit: you shall have a heavy one for the winter, +and ride to the meet with me occasionally. I suppose you have never done +that?" + +"Mr. Musgrave once took me to see the hounds throw off. I rode Harry's +pony that day. I was staying at Brook for a week." + +Mr. Fairfax knew who "Mr. Musgrave" was and who "Harry" was, but Bessie +did not recollect that he knew. However, as he asked no explanation of +them, she volunteered none, and they returned to the gardens. + +The cultivated grounds of Abbotsmead extended round three sides of the +house. On the west, where the principal entrance was, an outer +semicircle of lime trees, formed by the extension of the avenue, +enclosed a belt of evergreens, and in the middle of the drive rose a +mound over which spread a magnificent cedar. The great hall was the +central portion of the building, lighted by two lofty, square-headed +windows on either side of the door; the advanced wings that flanked it +had corresponding bays of exquisite proportions, which were the +end-windows of the great drawing-room and the old banqueting-room. The +former was continued along the south, with one bay very wide and deep, +and on either side of it a smaller bay, all preserving their dim glazing +after the old Venetian pattern. Beyond the drawing-room was the modern +adaptation of the wing which contained the octagon parlor and +dining-room: from the outside the harmony of construction was not +disturbed. The library adjoined the banqueting-room on the north, and +overlooked a fine expanse where the naturalization of American trees and +shrubs had been the hobby of the Fairfaxes for more than one generation. +The flower-garden was formed in terraces on the south, and was a mixture +of Italian and old English taste. The walls were a mingled tapestry of +roses, jessamine, sweet clematis, and all climbing plants hardy enough +to bear the rigors of the northern winter. Trimmed in though ever so +closely in the fall of the year, in the summer it bushed and blossomed +out into a wantonly luxuriant, delicious variety of color and fragrance. +If here and there a bit of gray stone showed through the mass, it +seemed only to enhance the loveliness of the leaf and flower-work. + +Bessie Fairfax stood to admire its glowing intricacy, and with a +remarkable effort of candor exclaimed, "I think this is as pretty as +anything in the Forest--as pretty as Fairfield or the manor-house at +Brook;" which amused her grandfather, for the south front of the old +mansion-house of Abbotsmead was one of the most grandly picturesque +specimens of domestic architecture to be found in the kingdom. + +In such perambulations time slips away fast. The squire looked at his +watch. It was eleven o'clock; at half-past he was due at a magistrate's +meeting two miles off; he must leave Bessie to amuse herself until +luncheon at two. Bessie was contented to be left. She replied that she +would now go indoors and write to her mother. Her grandfather paused an +instant on her answer, then nodded acquiescence and went away in haste. +Was he disappointed that she said nothing spontaneous? Bessie did not +give that a thought, but she said in her letter, "I do believe that my +grandfather wishes me to be happy here"--a possibility which had not +struck her until she took a pen in her hand, and set about reflecting +what news she had to communicate to her dear friends at Beechhurst. This +brilliant era of her vicissitudes was undoubtedly begun with a little +aversion. + +In the absence of her young lady, Mrs. Betts had unpacked and carefully +disposed of Bessie's limited possessions. + +"Your wardrobe will not give me much trouble, miss," said the +waiting-woman, with sly, good-humored allusion to the extent of it. + +"No," answered Bessie, misunderstanding her in perfect simplicity. "You +will find all in order. At school we mended our clothes and darned our +stockings punctually every week." + +"Did you really do this beautiful darning, miss? It is the finest +darning I ever met with--not to say it was lace." Mrs. Betts spoke more +seriously, as she held up to view a pair of filmy Lille thread stockings +which had sustained considerable dilapidation and repair. + +"Yes. They were not worth the trouble. Mademoiselle Adelaide made us +wear Lille thread on dancing-days that we might never want stockings to +mend. She had a passion for darning. She taught us to graft also: you +will find one pair of black silk grafted toe and heel. I have thought +them much too precious ever to wear since. I keep them for a curiosity." + +On the tables in Bessie's sitting-room were set out her humble +appliances for work, for writing--an enamelled white box with cut-steel +ornaments, much scratched; a capacious oval basket with a quilted red +silk cover, much faded; a limp Russia-leather blotting-book wrapped in +silver paper (Harry Musgrave had presented it to Bessie on her going +into exile, and she had cherished it too dearly to expose it to the risk +of blots at school). "I think," said she, "I shall begin to use it now." + +She released it from its envelope, smelt it, and laid it down +comfortably in front of the Sevres china inkstand. All the permanent +furniture of the writing-table was of Sevres china. Bessie thought it +grotesque, and had no notion of the value of it. + +"The big basket may be put aside?" suggested Mrs. Betts, and her young +lady did not gainsay her. But when the shabby little white enamelled box +was threatened, she commanded that that should be left--she had had it +so long she could not bear to part with it. It had been the joint-gift +of Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie on her twelfth birthday. + +Released, at length, from Mrs. Betts's respectful, observant presence, +Bessie began to look about her and consider her new habitation. A sense +of exaltation and a sense of bondage possessed her. These pretty, quaint +rooms were hers, then? It was not a day-dream--it was real. She was at +Abbotsmead--at Kirkham. Her true home-nest under the eaves at Beechhurst +was hundreds of miles away: farther still was the melancholy garden in +the Rue St. Jean. + +Opposite the parlor window was the fireplace, the lofty mantelshelf +being surmounted by a circular mirror, so inclined as to reflect the +landscape outside. Upon the panelled walls hung numerous specimens of +the elegant industry of Bessie's predecessors--groups of flowers +embroidered on tarnished white satin; shepherds and shepherdesses with +shell-pink painted faces and raiment of needlework in many colors; +pallid sketches of scenery; crayon portraits of youths and maidens of +past generations, none younger than fifty years ago. There was a +bookcase of white wood ruled with gold lines, like the spindly chairs +and tables, and here Bessie could study, if she pleased, the literary +tastes of ancient ladies, matrons and virgins, long since departed this +life in the odor of gentility and sanctity. The volumes were in bindings +rich and solid, and the purchase or presentation of each had probably +been an event. Bessie took down here and there one. Those ladies who +spent their graceful leisure at embroidery-frames were students of +rather stiff books. Locke _On the Conduct of the Human Understanding_ +and Paley's _Evidences of the Christian Religion_ Bessie took down and +promptly restored; also the _Sermons_ of Dr. Barrow and the _Essays_ of +Dr. Goldsmith. The _Letters_ of Mrs. Katherine Talbot and Mrs. Elizabeth +Carter engaged her only a few minutes, and the novels of Miss Edgeworth +not much longer. The most modern volumes in the collection were +inscribed with the name of "Dorothy Fairfax," who reigned in the days of +Byron and Wordsworth, Keats and Shelley, and had through them (from the +contents of three white vellum-covered volumes of extracts in her +autograph) learnt to love the elder poets whose works in quarto +populated the library. To Bessie these volumes became a treasure out of +which she filled her mind with songs and ballads, lays and lyrics. The +third volume had a few blank pages at the end, and these were the last +lines in it: + + "Absence, hear thou my protestation + Against thy strength, + Distance and length; + Do what thou canst for alteration: + For hearts of truest mettle + Absence doth join, and Time doth settle." + +Twice over Bessie read this, then to herself repeated it aloud--all with +thoughts of her friends in the Forest. + +The next minute her fortitude gave way, tears rushed to her eyes, Madame +Fournier's precepts vanished out of remembrance, and she cried like a +child wanting its mother. In which unhappy condition Mrs. Betts +discovered her, sitting upon the floor, when the little page came flying +to announce luncheon and visitors. It was two o'clock already. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_NEIGHBORS TO ABBOTSMEAD._ + + +Some recent duties of Mrs. Betts's service had given her, on occasion, +an authoritative manner, and she was impelled to use it when she +witnessed the forlornness of her young lady. "I am surprised that you +should give way, miss," said she. "In the middle of the day, too, when +callers are always liable, and your dear, good grandpapa expects a +smiling face! To make your eyes as red as a ferret--" + +"Indeed, they are not!" cried Bessie, and rose and ran to the +looking-glass. + +Mrs. Betts smiled at the effect of her tactics, and persevered: "Let me +see, miss: because if it is plain you have been fretting, you had better +make an excuse and stop up stairs. But the master will be vexed." Bessie +turned and submitted her countenance to inspection. "There was never a +complexion yet that was improved by fretting," was the waiting-woman's +severe insinuation. "You must wait five minutes, and let the air from +the window blow on you. Really, miss, you are too old to cry." + +Bessie offered no rejoinder; she was ashamed. The imperative necessity +of controlling the tender emotions had been sternly inculcated by Madame +Fournier. "Now shall I do?" she humbly asked, feeling the temperature of +her cheeks with her cool hands. + +Mrs. Betts judiciously hesitated, then, speaking in a milder voice, +said, "Yes--perhaps it would not be noticed. But tears was the very +mischief for eyes--_that_ Miss Fairfax might take her word for. And it +was old Lady Angleby and her niece, one of the Miss Burleighs, who were +down stairs." + +Bessie blushed consciously, appealed to the looking-glass again, +adjusted her mind to her duty, and descended to the octagon parlor. The +rose was no worse for the shower. Mr. Fairfax was there, standing with +his back to the fireplace, and lending his ears to an argument that was +being slowly enunciated by the noble matron who filled his chair. A +younger lady, yet not very young, who was seated languidly with her back +to the light, acknowledged Bessie's entrance with a smile that invited +her approach. "I think," she said, "you know my brother Cecil?" and so +they were introduced. + +For several minutes yet Lady Angleby's eloquence oozed on (her theme was +female emancipation), the squire listening with an inscrutable +countenance. "Now, I hope you feel convinced," was her triumphant +conclusion. Mr. Fairfax did not say whether he was convinced or not. He +seemed to observe that Elizabeth had come in, and begged to present his +granddaughter to her ladyship. Elizabeth made her pretty curtsey, and +was received with condescension, and felt, on a sudden, a most +unmannerly inclination to laugh, which she dissembled under a girlish +animation and alacrity in talk. The squire was pleased that she +manifested none of the stupid shyness of new young-ladyhood, though in +the presence of one of the most formidable of county magnates. Elizabeth +did not know that Lady Angleby was formidable, but she saw that she was +immense, and her sense of humor was stirred by the instant perception +that her self-consequence was as enormous as her bulk. But Miss Burleigh +experienced a thrill of alarm. The possibility of being made fun of by a +little simple girl had never suggested itself to the mind of her august +relative, but there was always the risk that her native shrewdness might +wake up some day from the long torpor induced by the homage paid to her +rank, and discover the humiliating fact that she was not always +imposing. By good luck for Miss Fairfax's favor with her, Pascal's maxim +recurred to her memory--that though it is not necessary to respect grand +people it is necessary to bow to them--and her temptation to be merry at +Lady Angleby's expense was instantly controlled. Miss Burleigh could not +but make a note of her sarcastic humor as a decidedly objectionable, and +even dangerous, trait in the young lady's character. That she dissembled +it so admirably was, however, to her credit. After his first movement of +satisfaction the squire was himself perplexed. Elizabeth's spirits were +lively and capricious, she was joyous-tempered, but she would not dare +to quiz; he must be mistaken. In fact, she had not yet acquired the +suppressed manner and deferential tone to her betters which are the +perpetuation of that ancient rule of etiquette by which inferiors are +guarded against affecting to be equal in talk with the mighty. Mr. +Fairfax proposed rather abruptly to go in to luncheon. Jonquil had +announced it five minutes ago. + +"She is beautiful! _beautiful_! I am charmed. We shall have her with +us--a beautiful young woman would popularize our cause beyond anything. +But how would Cecil approve of that?" whispered Lady Angleby as she +toiled into the adjoining room with the help of her host's arm. + +"Mr. Cecil Burleigh is wise and prudent. He will know how to temporize +with the vagaries of his womankind," said the squire. But he was highly +gratified by the complimentary appreciation of his granddaughter. + +"Vagaries, indeed! The surest signs of sound and healthy progress that +have shown themselves in this generation." + +Lady Angleby mounted her hobby. She was that queer modern development, a +democrat skin-deep, born and bred in feudal state, clothed in purple and +fine linen, faring sumptuously every day, and devoted colloquially to +the regeneration of the middle classes. The lower classes might now be +trusted to take care of themselves (with the help of the government and +the philanthropists), but such large discovery was being made of +frivolity, ignorance, and helplessness amongst the young women of the +great intermediate body of the people that Lady Angleby and a few select +friends had determined, looking for the blessing of Providence on their +endeavors, to take them under their patronage. + +"It is," she said, "a most hopeful thing to see the discontent that is +stirring amongst young women in this age, because an essential +preliminary to their improvement is the conviction that they have the +capacity for a freer, nobler life than that to which they are bound by +obsolete domestic traditions. Let us put within the reach of every young +girl an education that shall really develop her character and her +faculties. Why should the education of girls be arrested at eighteen, +and the apprenticeship of their brothers be continued to +one-and-twenty?" This query was launched into the air, but Lady +Angleby's prominent blue eyes seemed to appeal to Bessie, who was +visibly dismayed at the personal nature of the suggestion. + +Mr. Fairfax smiled and bade her speak, and then laughing, she said, +"Because at eighteen girls tire of grammar and dictionaries and precepts +for the conduct of life. We are women, and want to try life itself." + +"And what do you know to fit you for life?" said Lady Angleby firmly. + +"Nothing, except by instinct and precept." + +"Exactly so. And where is your experience? You have none. Girls plunge +into life at eighteen destitute of experience--weak, foolish, ignorant +of men and themselves. No wonder the world is encumbered with so many +helpless poor creatures as it is." + +"I should not like to live with only girls till one-and-twenty. What +experience could we teach each other?" said Bessie, rather at sea. A +notion flashed across her that Lady Angleby might be talking nonsense, +but as her grandfather seemed to listen with deference, she could not be +sure. + +"Girls ought to be trained in logic, geometry, and physical science to +harden their mental fibre; and how can they be so trained if their +education is to cease at eighteen?" Then with a modest tribute to her +own undeveloped capacities, the great lady cried, "Oh, what I might have +done if I had enjoyed the advantages I claim for others!" + +"You don't know. You have never yet been thrown on your own resources," +said Bessie with an air of infinite suggestion. + +Lady Angleby stared in cold astonishment, but Bessie preserved her gay +self-possession. Lady Angleby's cold stare was to most persons utterly +confusing. Miss Burleigh, an inattentive listener (perhaps because her +state of being was always that of a passive listener), gently observed +that she had no idea what any of them would do if they were thrown on +their own resources. + +"No idea is ever expected from you, Mary," said her aunt, and turned her +stony regard upon the poor lady, causing her to collapse with a silent +shiver. Bessie felt indignant. What was this towering old woman, with +her theory of feminine freedom and practice of feminine tyranny? There +was a momentary hush, and then Lady Angleby with pompous complacency +resumed, addressing the squire: + +"Our large scheme cannot be carried into effect without the general +concurrence of the classes we propose to benefit, but our pet plan for +proving to what women may be raised demands the concurrence of only a +few influential persons. I am sanguine that the government will yield to +our representations, and make us a grant for the foundation of a college +to be devoted to their higher education. We ask for twenty thousand +pounds." + +"I hope the government will have more wit," Mr. Fairfax exclaimed, his +rallying tone taking the sting out of his words. "The private hobbies of +you noble ladies must be supported out of your private purses, at the +expense of more selfish whims." + +"There is nothing so unjust as prejudice, unless it be jealousy," +exclaimed Lady Angleby with delicious unreason. "You would keep women in +subjection." + +Mr. Fairfax laughed, and assented to the proposition. "You clamor for +the high education of a few at the cost of the many; is that fair?" he +continued. "High education is a luxury for those who can afford it--a +rich endowment for the small minority who have the power of mind to +acquire it; and no more to be provided for that small minority out of +the national exchequer than silk attire for our conspicuous beauties." + +"I shall never convert you into an advocate for the elevation of the +sex. You sustain the old cry--the inferiority of woman's intellect." + +"'The earth giveth much mould whereof earthen vessels are made, but +little dust that gold cometh of.' High education exists already for the +wealthy, and commercial enterprise will increase the means of it as the +demand increases. If you see a grain of gold in the dust of common life, +and likely to be lost there, rescue it for the crucible, but most such +grains of gold find out the way to refine themselves. As for gilding the +earthen pots, I take leave to think that it would be labor wasted--that +they are, in fact, more serviceable without ornament, plain, well-baked +clay. Help those who are helpless and protect those who are weak as much +as you please, but don't vex the strong and capable with idle +interference. Leave the middle classes to supply their wants in their +own way--they know them best, and have gumption enough--and stick we to +the ancient custom of providing for the sick and needy." + +"The ancient custom is good, and is not neglected, but the modern +fashion is better." + +"That I contest. There is more alloy of vanity and busy-bodyism in +modern philanthropy than savor of charity." + +"We shall never agree," cried Lady Angleby with mock despair. "Miss +Fairfax, this is the way with us--your grandfather and I never meet but +we fall out." + +"You are not much in earnest," said Bessie. Terrible child! she had set +down this great lady as a great sham. + +"To live in the world and to be absolutely truthful is very difficult, +is all but impossible," remarked Miss Burleigh with a mild +sententiousness that sounded irrelevant, but came probably in the +natural sequence of her unspoken thoughts. + +"When you utter maxims like your famous progenitor you should give us +his nod too, Mary," said her aunt. Then she suddenly inquired of Mr. +Fairfax, "When do you expect Cecil?" + +"Next week. He must address the electors at Norminster on Thursday. I +hope he will arrive here on Tuesday." + +Lady Angleby looked full in Bessie's face, which was instantly +overspread by a haughty blush. Miss Burleigh looked anywhere else. And +both drew the same conclusion--that the young lady's imagination was all +on fire, and that her heart would not be slow to yield and melt in the +combustion. The next move was back to the octagon parlor. The young +people walked to the open window; the elders had communications to +exchange that might or might not concern them, but which they were not +invited to hear. They leant on the sill and talked low. Miss Burleigh +began the conversation by remarking that Miss Fairfax must find +Abbotsmead very strange, being but just escaped from school. + +"It is strange, but one grows used to any place very soon," Bessie +answered. + +"You have no companion, and Mr. Fairfax sets his face against duennas. +What shall you do next week?" + +"What I am bid," said Bessie laconically. "My grandfather has bespoken +for me the good offices of Mrs. Stokes as guide to the choice of a blue +bonnet; the paramount duty of my life at present seems to be to conform +myself to the political views of Mr. Cecil Burleigh in the color of my +ribbons. I have great pleasure in doing so, for blue is my color, and +suits me." + +Miss Burleigh had a good heart, and let Bessie's little bravado pass. +"Are you interested in the coming election? I cannot think of anything +else. My brother's career may almost be said to depend on his success." + +"Then I hope he will win." + +"Your kind good wishes should help him. You will come and stay at +Brentwood?" + +"Brentwood? what is Brentwood?" + +"My aunt's house. It is only two miles out of Norminster. My aunt was so +impatient to see you that she refused to wait one day. Cecil will often +be with us, for my father's house is at Carisfort--too far off." + +"I am at my grandfather's commands. I have not a friend here. I know no +one, and have even to find out the ways and manners of my new world. Do +you live at Brentwood?" + +"Yes. My home is with my aunt. I shall be glad, very glad, to give you +any help or direction that you like to ask for. Mrs. Stokes has a +charming taste in dress, and is a dear little woman. You could not have +a nicer friend; and she is well married, which is always an advantage in +a girl's friend. You will like Colonel Stokes too." + +In the course of the afternoon Bessie had the opportunity of judging for +herself. Colonel Stokes brought his wife to call upon her. Their +residence was close by Abbotsmead, at the Abbey Lodge, restored by Mr. +Fairfax for their occupation. Colonel Stokes was old enough to be his +wife's father, and young enough to be her hero and companion. She was a +plump little lady, full of spirits and loving-kindness. Bessie +considered her, and decided that she was of her own age, but Mrs. Stokes +had two boys at home to contradict that. She looked so girlish still in +her sage matronhood because she was happy, gay, contented with her life, +because her eyes were blue and limpid as deep lake water, and her cheeks +round and fresh as half-blown roses ungathered. Her dress was as dainty +as herself, and merited the eulogium that Miss Burleigh had passed upon +it. + +"You are going to be so kind as to introduce me to a good milliner at +Norminster?" Bessie said after a few polite preliminaries. + +"Yes--to Miss Jocund, who will be delighted to make your acquaintance. I +shall tell her to take pains with you, but there will be no need to tell +her that; she always does take pains with girls who promise to do her +credit. I am afraid there is not time to send to Paris for the blue +bonnet you must wear next Thursday, but she will make you something +nice; you may trust her. This wonderful election is the event of the +day. We have resolved that Mr. Cecil Burleigh shall head the poll." + +"How shall you ensure his triumph? Are you going to canvass for him?" + +"No, no, that is out of date. But Lady Angleby threatens that she will +leave Brentwood, and never employ a Norminster tradesman again if they +are so ungrateful as to refuse their support to her nephew. They are +radicals every one." + +"And is not she also a radical? She talks of the emancipation of women +by keeping them at school till one-and-twenty, of the elevation of the +masses, and the mutual improvement of everybody not in the peerage." + +"You are making game of her, like my Arthur. No, she is not a radical; +that is all her _hum_. I believe Lord Angleby was something of the sort, +but I don't understand much about politics." + +"Only for the present occasion we are blue?" said Bessie airily. + +"Yes--all blue," echoed Mrs. Stokes. "Sky-blue," and they both laughed. + +"You must agree at what hour you will go into Norminster on Monday--the +half-past-eleven train is the best," Colonel Stokes said. + +"Cannot we go to-morrow?" his wife asked. + +"No, it is Saturday, market-day;" and his suggestion was adopted. + +When the visit was over, in the pleasantness of the late afternoon, +Bessie walked through the gardens and across the park with these +neighbors to Abbotsmead. A belt of shrubbery and a sunk fence divided +the grounds of the lodge from the park, and there was easy +communication by a rustic bridge and a wicket left on the latch. "I hope +you will come often to and fro, and that you will seek me whenever you +want me. This is the shortest way," Mrs. Stokes said to her. Bessie +thanked her, and then walked back to the house, taking her time, and +thinking what a long while ago it was since yesterday. + +Yesterday! Only yesterday she was on board the Foam that had brought her +from France, that had passed by the Forest--no longer ago than +yesterday, yet as far off already as a year ago. + +Thinking of it, she fell into a melancholy that belonged to her +character. She was tired with the incidents of the day. At dinner Mr. +Fairfax seemed to miss something that had charmed him the night before. +She answered when he spoke, but her gayety was under eclipse. They were +both relieved when the evening came to an end. Bessie was glad to escape +to solitude, and her grandfather experienced a sense of vague +disappointment, but he supposed he must have patience. Even Jonquil +observed the difference, and was sorry that this bright young lady who +had come into the house should enter so soon into its clouds; he was +grieved too that his dear old master, who betrayed an unwonted humility +in his desire to please her, should not at once find his reward in her +affection. Bessie was not conscious that it would have been any boon to +him. She had no rule yet to measure the present by except the past, and +her experience of his usage in the past did not invite her tenderness. A +reasonable and mild behavior was all she supposed to be required of her. +Anything else--whether for better or worse--would be spontaneous. She +could not affect either love or dislike, and how far she could dissemble +either she had yet to learn. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +_PAST AND PRESENT._ + + +The next morning Bessie was left entirely at liberty to amuse herself. +Mr. Fairfax had breakfasted alone, and was gone to Norminster before +she came down stairs. Jonquil made the communication. Bessie wondered +whether it was often so, and whether she would have to make out the +greater part of the days for herself. But she said nothing; some feeling +that she did not reason about told her that there must be no complaining +here, let the days be what they might. She wrote a long letter to Madame +Fournier, and then went out of doors, having declined Mrs. Betts's +proposed attendance. + +"Where is the village?" she asked a boy who was sweeping up fallen +leaves from the still dewy lawn. He pointed her the way to go. "And the +church and parsonage?" she added. + +"They be all together, miss, a piece beyond the lodge." + +With an object in view Bessie could feel interested. She was going to +see her mother's home, the house where she was herself born; and on the +road she began to question whether she had any kinsfolk on her mother's +side. Mrs. Carnegie had once told her that she believed not--unless +there were descendants of her grandfather Bulmer's only brother in +America, whither he had emigrated as a young man; but she had never +heard of any. A cousin of some sort would have been most acceptable to +Bessie in her dignified isolation. She did not naturally love solitude. + +The way across the park by which she had been directed brought her out +upon the high-road--a very pleasant road at that spot, with a fir wood +climbing a shallow hill opposite, bounded by a low stone fence, all +crusted with moss and lichen, age and weather. + +For nearly half a mile along the roadside lay an irregular open space of +broken ground with fine scattered trees upon it, and close turf where +primroses were profuse in spring. An old woman was sitting in the shade +knitting and tending a little black cow that cropped the sweet moist +grass. Only for the sake of speaking Bessie asked again her way to the +village. + +"Keep straight on, miss, you can't miss it," said the old woman, and +gazed up at her inquisitively. + +So Bessie kept straight on until she came to the ivy-covered walls of +the lodge; the porch opened upon the road, and Colonel Stokes was +standing outside in conversation with another gentleman, who was the +vicar of Kirkham, Mr. Forbes. Bessie went on when she had passed them, +shyly disconcerted, for Colonel Stokes had come forward with an air of +surprise and had asked her if she was lost. Perhaps it was unusual for +young ladies to walk alone here? She did not know. + +The gentlemen watched her out of sight. "Miss Fairfax, of course," said +the vicar. "She walks admirably--I like to see that." + +"A handsome girl," said Colonel Stokes. And then they reverted to their +interrupted discussion, the approaching election at Norminster. The +clergyman was very keen about it, the old Indian officer was almost +indifferent. + +Meanwhile Bessie reached the church--a very ancient church, spacious and +simple, with a square tower and a porch that was called Norman. The +graveyard surrounded it. A flagged pathway led from the gate between the +grassy mounds to the door, which stood open that the Saturday sun might +drive out the damp vapors of the week. She went in and saw whitewashed +walls; thick round pillars between the nave and aisles; deep-sunken +windows dim with fragmentary pieces of colored glass, and all more or +less out of the perpendicular; a worm-eaten oak-screen separating the +chancel and a solemn enclosure, erst a chapel, now the Fairfax pew; a +loft where the choir sat in front for divine service, with fiddle and +bassoon, and the school-children sat behind, all under the eye of the +parson and his clerk, who was also the school-master. + +In the chancel were several monuments to the memory of defunct pastors. +The oldest was very old, and the inscription in Latin on brass; the +newest was to Bessie's grandfather--the "Reverend Thomas Bulmer, for +forty-six years vicar of this parish." From the dates he had married +late, for he had died in a good old age in the same year as his daughter +Elizabeth, and only two months before her. In smaller letters below the +inscription-in-chief it was recorded that his wife Letitia was buried at +Torquay in Cornwall, and that this monument was erected to their pious +memory by their only child--"Elizabeth, the wife of the Reverend Geoffry +Fairfax, rector of Beechhurst in the county of Hants." + +All gone--not one left! Bessie pondered over this epitome of family +history, and thought within herself that it was not without cause she +felt alone here. With a shiver she returned into the sunshine and +proceeded up the public road. The vicarage was a little low house, very +humble in its externals, roofed with fluted tiles, and the walls covered +to the height of the chamber windows with green latticework and +creepers. It stood in a spacious garden and orchard, and had +outbuildings at a little distance on the same homely plan. The living +was in the gift of Abbotsmead, and the Fairfaxes had not been moved to +house their pastor, with his three hundred a year, in a residence fit +for a bishop. It was a simple, pleasant, rustic spot. The lower windows +were open, so was the door under the porch. Bessie saw that it could not +have undergone any material change since the summer days of twenty years +ago, when her father, a bright young fellow fresh from college, went to +read there of a morning with the learned vicar, and fell in love with +his pretty Elizabeth, and wooed and won her. + +Bessie, imperfectly informed, exaggerated the resentment with which Mr. +Fairfax had visited his offending son. It was never an active +resentment, but merely a contemptuous acceptance of his irrevocable act. +He said, "Geoffry has married to his taste. His wife is used to a plain +way of living; they will be more useful in a country parish living on +so, free from the temptations of superfluous means." And he gave the +young couple a bare pittance. Time might have brought him relenting, but +time does not always reserve us opportunities. And here was Bessie +Fairfax considering the sorrows and early deaths of her parents, +charging them to her grandfather's account, and confirming herself in +her original judgment that he was a hard and cruel man. + +The village of Kirkham was a sinuous wide street of homesteads and +cottages within gardens, and having a green open border to the road +where geese and pigs, cows and children, pastured indiscriminately. It +was the old order of things where one man was master. The gardens had, +for the most part, a fine show of fragrant flowers, the hedges were +neatly trimmed, the fruit trees were ripening abundantly. Of children, +fat and ruddy, clean and well clothed, there were many playing about, +for their mothers were gone to Norminster market, and there was no +school on Saturday. Bessie spoke to nobody, and nobody spoke to her. +Some of the children dropt her a curtsey, but the majority only stared +at her as a stranger. She felt, somehow, as if she would never be +anything else but a stranger here. When she had passed through the +village to the end of it, where the "Chequers," the forge, and the +wheelwright's shed stood, she came to a wide common. Looking across it, +she saw the river, and found her way home by the mill and the +harvest-fields. + +It would have enhanced Bessie's pleasure, though not her happiness +perhaps, if she could have betaken herself to building castles in the +Woldshire air, but the moment she began to indulge in reverie her +thoughts flew to the Forest. No glamour of pride, enthusiasm, or any +sort of delightful hope mistified her imagination as to her real +indifference towards Abbotsmead. When she reached the garden she sat +down amongst the roses, and gazed at the beautiful old flower-woven +walls that she had admired yesterday, and felt like a visitor growing +weary of the place. Even while her bodily eyes were upon it, her mind's +eye was filled with a vision of the green slopes of the wilderness +garden at Brook, and the beeches laving their shadows in the sweet +running water. + +"I believe I am homesick," she said. "I cannot care for this place. I +should have had a better chance of taking to it kindly if my grandfather +had let me go home for a little while. Everything is an effort here." +And it is to be feared that she gave way again, and fretted in a manner +that Madame Fournier would have grieved to see. But there was no help +for it; her heart was sore, and tears relieved it. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Fairfax was at home to dinner. He returned from Norminster jaded and +out of spirits. Now, Bessie, though she did not love him (though she +felt it a duty to assert and reassert that fact to herself, lest she +should forget it), felt oddly pained when she looked into his face and +saw that he was dull; to be dull signified to be unhappy in Bessie's +vocabulary. But timidity tied her tongue. It was not until Jonquil had +left them to themselves that they attempted any conversation. Then Mr. +Fairfax remarked, "You have been making a tour of investigation, +Elizabeth: you have been into the village?" + +Bessie said that she had, and that she had gone into the church. Then +all at once an impulse came upon her to ask, "Why did you let my parents +go so far away? was it so very wrong in them to marry?" + +"No, not wrong at all. It is written, 'A man shall leave his father and +mother, and cleave unto his wife,'" was the baffling reply she got, and +it silenced her. And not for that occasion only. + +When Bessie retired into the octagon parlor her grandfather stayed +behind. He had been to see Mr. John Short that day, and had heard that a +new aspect had come over the electioneering sky. The Radicals had +received an impetus from some quarter unknown, and were preparing to +make such a hard fight for the representation of Norminster that the +triumph of the Tory party was seriously threatened. This news had vexed +him, but it was not of that he meditated chiefly when he was left alone. +It was of Bessie. He had founded certain pleasurable expectations upon +her, and he felt that these expectations were losing their bloom. He +could not fail to recollect her quietness of last night, when he noticed +the languor of her eyes, the dejection of her mouth, and the effort it +was to her to speak. The question concerning her parents had aroused the +slumbering ache of old remembrance, and had stung him anew with a sense +of her condemnation. A feeling akin to remorse visited him as he sat +considering, and by degrees realizing, what he had done to her, and was +doing; but he had his motive, he had his object in it, and the motive +had seemed to justify the means until he came to see her face to face. +Contact with her warm, distinct humanity began immediately to work a +change in his mind. Absent, he had decided that he could dispose of her +as he would. Present, he recognized that she would have a voice, and +probably a casting voice, in the disposal of herself. He might sever her +from her friends in the Forest, but he would not thereby attach her to +friends and kinsfolk in the north. His last wanton act of selfish +unkindness, in refusing to let her see her old home in passing, was +evidently producing its effect in silent grieving, in resentment and +revolt. + +All his life long Mr. Fairfax had coveted affection, and had missed the +way to win it. No one had ever really loved him except his sister +Dorothy--so he believed; and Elizabeth was so like Dorothy in the face, +in her air, her voice, her gestures, that his heart went out to her with +a yearning that was almost pain. But when he looked at her, she looked +at him again like Dorothy alienated--like Dorothy grown strange. It was +a very curious revival out of the far past. When he was a young man and +Lady Latimer was a girl, there had been a prospect of a double marriage +between their families, but the day that destroyed one hope destroyed +both, and Dorothy Fairfax died of that grief. Elizabeth, with her +tear-worn eyes, was Dorothy's sad self to-night, only the eyes did not +seek his friendly. They were gazing at pictures in the fire when he +rejoined her, and though Bessie moved and raised her head in courteous +recognition of his coming, there was something of avoidance in her +manner, as if she shrank from his inspection. Perhaps she did; she had +no desire to parade her distresses or to reproach him with them. She +meant to be good--only give her time. But she must have time. + +There was a book of photographs on the table that Frederick Fairfax and +his wife had collected during their wedding-tour on the Continent. It +was during the early days of the art, and the pictures were as blurred +and faded as their lives had since become. Bessie was turning them over +with languid interest, when her grandfather, perceiving how she was +employed, said he could show her some foreign views that would please +her better than those dim photographs. He unlocked a drawer in the +writing-table and produced half a dozen little sketch-books, his own and +his sister Dorothy's during their frequent travels together. It seemed +that their practice had been to make an annual tour. + +While Bessie examined the contents of the sketch-books, her grandfather +stood behind her looking over her shoulder, and now and then saying a +few words in explanation, though most of the scenes were named and +dated. They were water-color drawings--bits of landscape, picturesque +buildings, grotesque and quaint figures, odd incidents of foreign life, +all touched with tender humor, and evidently by a strong and skilful +hand; and flowers, singly or in groups, full of a delicate fancy. In the +last volume of the series there were no more flowers; the scenes were of +snow-peaks and green hills, of wonderful lake-water, and boats with +awnings like the hood of a tilted cart; and the sky was that of Italy. + +"Oh, these are lovely, but why are there no more flowers?" said Bessie +thoughtlessly. + +"Dorothy had given up going out then," said her grandfather in a low, +strained voice. + +Bessie caught her breath as she turned the next page, and came on a +roughly washed-in mound of earth under an old wall where a white cross +was set. A sudden mist clouded her sight, and then a tear fell on the +paper. + +"That is where she was buried--at Bellagio on Lake Como," said Mr. +Fairfax, and moved away. + +Bessie continued to gaze at the closing page for several minutes without +seeing it; then she turned back the leaves preceding, and read them +again, as it were, in the sad light of the end. It was half a feint to +hide or overcome her emotion, for her imagination had figured to her +that last mournful journey. Her grandfather saw how she was +affected--saw the trembling of her hand as she paused upon the sketches +and the furtive winking away of her tears. Dear Bessie! smiles and tears +were so easy to her yet. If she had dared to yield to a natural impulse, +she would have shut the melancholy record and have run to comfort +him--would have clasped her hands round his arm and laid her cheek +against his shoulder, and have said, "Oh, poor grandpapa!" with most +genuine pity and sympathy. But he stood upon the hearth with his back to +the fire, erect, stiff as a ramrod, with gloom in his eyes and lips +compressed, and anything in the way of a caress would probably have +amazed more than it would have flattered him. Bessie therefore refrained +herself, and for ever so long there was silence in the room, except for +the ticking of the clock on the chimney-piece and the occasional +dropping of the ashes from the bars. At last she left looking at the +sketches and mechanically reverted to the photographs upon which Mr. +Fairfax came out of his reverie and spoke again. She was weary, but the +evening was now almost over. + +"I do not like those sun-pictures. They are not permanent, and a +water-color drawing is more pleasing to begin with. You can draw a +little, Elizabeth? Have you any sketches about Caen or Bayeux?" + +Bessie modestly said that she had, and went to bring them; school-girl +fashion, she wished to exhibit her work, and to hear that the money +spent on her neglected education had not been all spent in vain. Her +grandfather was graciously inclined to commend her productions. He told +her that she had a nice touch, and that it was quite worth her while to +cultivate her talent. "It will add a great interest to your travels when +you have the chance of travelling," he said; "for, like life itself, +travelling has many blank spaces that a taste for sketching agreeably +fills up. Ten o'clock already? Yes--good-night." + + * * * * * + +The following morning Mr. Fairfax and Bessie walked to church together. +Along the road everybody acknowledged the squire with bow or curtsey, +and the little children stood respectfully at gaze as he passed. He +returned the civility of all by lifting a forefinger to his hat, though +he spoke to none, and Bessie was led to understand that he had the +confidence of his people, and that he probably deserved it. For a sign +that there was no bitterness in his own feelings, each token of regard +was noted by her with satisfaction. + +At the lodge Colonel and Mrs. Stokes joined them, and Mrs. Stokes's +bright eyes frankly appreciated the elegant simplicity of Bessie's +attire, her chip bonnet and daisies, her dress of French spun silk, +white and violet striped, and perfectly fitting Paris gloves. She nodded +meaningly to Bessie, and Bessie smiled back her full comprehension that +the survey was satisfactory and pleasing. + +Some old customs still prevailed at Kirkham. The humble congregation was +settled in church before the squire entered his red-curtained pew, and +sat quiet after sermon until the squire went out. Bessie's thoughts +roved often during the service. Mr. Forbes read apace, and the clerk +sang out the responses like an echo with no time to lose. There had been +a death in the village during the past week, and the event was now +commemorated by a dirge in which the children's shrill treble was +supported by the majority of the congregation. The sermon also took up +the moral of life and death. It was short and pithy; perhaps it was +familiar, and none the less useful for that. Mr. Forbes was not +concerned to lead his people into new ways; he believed the old were +better. Work and pray, fear God and keep His commandments, love your +neighbor, and meddle not with those who are given to change,--these were +his cardinal points, from which he brought to bear on their consciences +much powerful doctrine and purifying precept. He was a man of high +courage and robust faith, who practised what he preached, and bore that +cheerful countenance which is a sign of a heart in prosperity. + +After service Colonel and Mrs. Stokes walked home with Mr. Fairfax and +Bessie, lunched at Abbotsmead, and lounged about the garden afterward. +This was an institution. Sunday is long in country houses, and good +neighbors help one another to get rid of it. The Stokes's boys came in +the afternoon, to Bessie's great joy; they made a noisy playground of +the garden, and behaved just like Jack and Tom and Willie Carnegie, +kicking up their heels and laughing at nothing. + +"There are no more gooseberries," cried their mother, catching the +younger of the two, a bluff copy of herself, and offering him to Bessie +to kiss. Bessie kissed him heartily. "You are fond of children, I can +see," said her new friend. + +"I like a houseful! Oh, when have I had a nice kiss at a boy's hard, +round cheeks? Not for years! years! I have five little brothers and two +sisters at home." + +Mrs. Stokes regarded Bessie with a touched surprise, but she asked no +questions; she knew her story in a general inaccurate way. The boy gazed +in her face with a pretty lovingness, rubbed his nose suddenly against +hers, wrestled himself out of her embrace, and ran away. "When you feel +as if you want a good kiss, come to my house," said his mother, her blue +eyes shining tenderly. "It must be dreadful to miss little children when +you have lived with them. I could not bear it. Abbotsmead always looks +to me like a great dull splendid prison." + +"My grandfather makes it as pleasant to me as he can; I don't repine," +said Bessie quickly. "He has given me a beautiful little filly to ride, +but she is not quite trained yet; and I shall beg him to let me have a +companionable dog; I love a dog." + +The church-bells began to ring for afternoon service. Mrs. Stokes shook +her head at Bessie's query: nobody ever went, she said, but servants and +poor people. Evening service there was none, and Mr. Forbes dined with +the squire; that also was an institution. The gentlemen talked of +parochial matters, and Bessie, wisely inferring that they could talk +more freely in her absence, left them to themselves and retreated to her +private parlor, to read a little and dream a great deal of her friends +in the Forest. + +At dusk there was a loud jangling indoors and out, and Mrs. Betts +summoned her young lady down stairs. She met her grandfather and Mr. +Forbes issuing from the dining-room, and they passed together into the +hall, where the servants of the house stood on parade to receive their +pastor and master. They were assembled for prayers. Once a week, after +supper, this compliment was paid to the Almighty--a remnant of ancient +custom which the squire refused to alter or amend. When Bessie had +assisted at this ceremony she had gone through the whole duty of the +day, and her reflection on her experience since she came to Abbotsmead +was that life as a pageant must be dull--duller than life as a toil. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +_A DISCOVERY._ + + +While Bessie Fairfax was pronouncing the web of her fortunes dull, Fate +was spinning some mingled threads to throw into the pattern and give it +intricacy and liveliness. The next day Mrs. Stokes chaperoned her to +Norminster in quest of that blue bonnet. Mrs. Betts went also, and had a +world of shopping to help in on behalf of her young mistress. They drove +from the station first to the chief tailor's in High street, the +ladies' habitmaker, then to the fashionable hosier, the fashionable +haberdasher. By three o'clock Bessie felt herself flagging. What did she +want with so many fine clothes? she inquired of Mrs. Stokes with an air +of appeal. She was learning that to get up only one character in life as +a pageant involves weariness, labor, pains, and money. + +"You are going to stay at Brentwood," rejoined her chaperone +conclusively. + +"And is it so dull at Brentwood that dressing is a resource?" Bessie +demurred. + +"Wait and see. You will have pleasant occupation enough, I should think. +Most girls would call this an immense treat. But if you are really tired +we will go to Miss Jocund now. Mrs. Betts can choose ribbons and +gloves." + +Miss Jocund was a large-featured woman of a grave and wise countenance. +She read the newspaper in intervals of business, and was reading it now +with her glasses on. Lowering the paper, she recognized a favorite +customer in Mrs. Stokes, and laid the news by, but with reluctance. Duty +forbade, however, that this lady should be remitted to an assistant. + +"I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Jocund, but it is important--it is +about a bonnet," cried Mrs. Stokes gayly. "I have brought you Miss +Fairfax of Abbotsmead. I am sure you will make her something quite +lovely." + +Miss Jocund took off her glasses, and gave Bessie a deliberate, +discerning look-over. "Very happy, ma'am, indeed. Blue, of course?" she +said. Bessie acquiesced. "Any taste, any style?" the milliner further +queried. + +"Yes. Give me always simplicity and no imitations," was the +unhesitating, concise reply. + +"Miss Fairfax and I understand one another. Anything more to-day, +ladies?" Bessie and Mrs. Stokes considered for a moment, and then said +they would not detain Miss Jocund any longer from her newspaper. "Ah, +ladies! who can exist altogether on _chiffons_?" rejoined the milliner, +half apologetically. "I do love my _Times_--I call it my 'gentleman.' I +cannot live without my gentleman. Yes, ladies, he does smell of tobacco. +That is because he spends a day and night in the bar-parlor of the +Shakespeare Tavern before he visits me. So do evil communications +corrupt good manners. The door, Miss Lawson. Good-afternoon, ladies." + +"You must not judge of Miss Jocund as a milliner and nothing more," her +chaperone instructed Bessie when they had left the shop. "She is a lady +herself. Her father was Dr. Jocund, the best physician in Norminster +when you could find him sober. He died, and left his daughter with only +debts for a fortune; she turned milliner, and has paid every sixpence of +them." + +Where were they to go next? Bessie recollected that her uncle Laurence +lived in the vicinity of the minster, and that she had an errand to him +from her grandfather. She had undertaken it cheerfully, feeling that it +would be a pleasure to see her kind uncle Laurence again. There was a +warmth of geniality about him that was absent from her uncle Frederick +and her grandfather, and she had decided that if she was to have any +friend amongst her kinsfolk, her uncle Laurence would be that friend. +She was sure that her father, whom she barely knew, had been most like +him. + +It was not far to Minster Court, and they directed their steps that way. +The streets of Norminster still preserve much of their picturesque +antiquity, but they are dull, undeniably dull, except on the occasion of +assizes, races, fairs, and the annual assembling of the yeomanry and +militia. Elections are no more the saturnalia they used to be in the +good old times. Bessie was reminded of Bayeux and its sultry drowsiness +as they passed into the green purlieus of the minster and under a +low-browed archway into a spacious paved court, where the sun slept on +the red-brick backs of the old houses. Mr. Laurence Fairfax's door was +in the most remote corner, up a semi-circular flight of steps, guarded +on either side by an iron railing. + +As the two ladies approached the steps a young countrywoman came down +them, saying in a mingled strain of persuasion and threat, "Come, Master +Justus: if you don't come along this minute, I'll tell your granma." And +a naughty invisible voice made an answer with lisping defiance, "Well, +go, Sally, go. Be quick! go before your shoes wear out." + +Mrs. Stokes, rounding her pretty eyes and pretty mouth, cried softly, +"Oh, what a very rude little boy!" And the very rude little boy +appeared in sight, hustled coaxingly behind by the stout respectable +housekeeper of Mr. Laurence Fairfax. When he saw the strange ladies he +stood stock-still and gazed at them as bold as Hector, and they gazed at +him again in mute amazement--a cherub of four years old or thereabouts, +with big blue eyes and yellow curls. When he had satisfied himself with +gazing, he descended the steps and set off suddenly at a run for the +archway. The housekeeper had a flushed, uneasy smile on her face as she +recognized Mrs. Stokes--a smile of amused consternation, which the +little lady's shocked grimace provoked. Bessie herself laughed in +looking at her again, and the housekeeper rallied her composure enough +to say, "Oh, the self-will and naughtiness there is in boys, ma'am! But +you know it, having boys of your own!" + +"Too well, Mrs. Burrage, too well! Is Mr. Laurence Fairfax at home?" + +"I am sorry to say that he is not, ma'am. May I make bold to ask if the +young lady is Miss Fairfax from Abbotsmead, that was expected?" + +Bessie confessed to her identity, and while Mrs. Stokes wrote the name +of Miss Fairfax on one of her own visiting-cards (for Bessie was still +unprovided), Burrage begged, as an old servant of the house, to offer +her best wishes and to inquire after the health of the squire. They were +interrupted by that rude little boy, who came running back into the +court with Sally in pursuit. He was shouting too at the top of his +voice, and making its solemn echoes ring again. Burrage with sudden +gravity watched what would ensue. Capture ensued, and a second evasion +into the street. Burrage shook her head, as who would say that Sally's +riotous charge was far beyond her control--which indubitably he was--and +Bessie forgot her errand entirely. Whose was that little boy, the +picture of herself? Mrs. Stokes recovered her countenance. They turned +to go, and were halfway across the court when the housekeeper called +after them in haste: "Ladies, ladies! my master has come in by the +garden way, if you will be pleased to return?" and they returned, +neither of them by word or look affording to the other any intimation of +her profound reflections. + +Mr. Laurence Fairfax received his visitors with a frank welcome, and +bade Burrage bring them a cup of tea. Mrs. Stokes soon engaged him in +easy chat, but Bessie sat by in perplexed rumination, trying to +reconcile the existence of that little flaxen-haired boy with her +preconceived notions of her bachelor uncle. The view of him had let in a +light upon her future that pleased while it confused her. The reason it +pleased her she would discern as her thoughts cleared. At this moment +she was dazzled by a series of surprises. First, by the sight of that +cherub, and then by the order that reigned through this quaint and +narrow house where her learned kinsman lived. They had come up a winding +stair into a large, light hall, lined with books and peopled by marble +sages on pedestals, from which opened two doors--the one into a small +red parlor where the philosopher ate, the other into a long room looking +to the garden and the minster, furnished with the choicest collections +of his travelled youth. The "omnibus" of Canon Fournier used to be all +dusty disorder. Bessie's silence and her vagrant eyes misled her uncle +into the supposition that his old stones, old canvases, and ponderous +quartoes interested her curiosity, and noticing that they settled at +length, with an intelligent scrutiny, on some object beyond him, he +asked what it was, and moved to see. + +Nothing rich, nothing rare or ancient--only the tail and woolly +hind-quarters of a toy lamb extruded from the imperfectly closed door of +a cupboard below a bookcase. Instantly he jumped up and went to shut the +cupboard; but first he must open it to thrust in the lamb, and out it +tumbled bodily, and after it a wagon with red wheels and black-spotted +horses harnessed thereto. As he awkwardly restored them, Mrs. Stokes +never moved a muscle, but Bessie smiled irrepressibly and in her uncle's +face as he returned to his seat with a fine confusion blushing thereon. +At that moment Burrage came in with the tea. No doubt Mrs. Stokes was +equally astonished to see a nursery-cupboard in a philosopher's study, +but she could turn her discourse to circumstances with more skill than +her unworldly companion, and she resumed the thread of their interrupted +chat with perfect composure. Mr. Laurence Fairfax could not, however, +take her cue, and he rose with readiness at the first movement of the +ladies to go. He began to say to Bessie that she must make his house +her home when she wanted to come to Norminster, and that he should +always be glad of her company. Bessie thanked him, and as she looked up +in his benevolent face there was a pure friendliness in her eyes that he +responded to by a warm pressure of her hand. And as he closed the door +upon them he dismissed his sympathetic niece with a most kind and +kinsman-like nod. + +Mrs. Stokes began to laugh when they were clear of the house: "A pretty +discovery! Mr. Laurence Fairfax has a little playfellow: suppose he +should turn out to be a married man?" cried she under her breath. "So +that is the depth of his philosophy! My Arthur will be mightily amused." + +"What a darling little naughty boy that was!" whispered Bessie, also +laughing. "How I should like to have him at Abbotsmead! What fun it +would be!" + +"Mind, you don't mention him at Abbotsmead. Mr. Fairfax will be the last +to hear of him; the mother must be some unpresentable person. If Mr. +Laurence Fairfax is married, it will be so much the worse for you." + +"Nothing in the way of little Fairfax boys can be the worse for me," was +Bessie's airy, pleasant rejoinder. And she felt exhilarated as by a +sudden, sunshiny break in the cloudy monotony of her horizon. + +Mr. Laurence Fairfax returned to his study when he had parted with his +visitors, and there he found Burrage awaiting him. "Sir," she said with +a gravity befitting the occasion, "I must tell you that Master Justus +has been seen by those two ladies." + +"And Master Justus's pet lamb and cart and horses," quoth her master as +seriously. "You had thrown the toys into the cupboard too hastily, or +you had not fastened the door, and the lamb's legs stuck out. Miss +Fairfax made a note of them." + +"Ah, sir, if you would but let Mr. John Short speak before the story +gets round to your respected father the wrong way!" pleaded Burrage. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax did not answer her. She said no more, but shook her +head and went away, leaving him to his reflections, which were more +mischievous than the reflections of philosophers are commonly supposed +to be. + +Bessie returned to Kirkham a changed creature. Her hopefulness had +rallied to the front. Her mind was filled with blithe anticipations +founded on that dear little naughty boy and his incongruous cupboard of +playthings in her uncle's study. + +If there was a boy for heir to Abbotsmead, nobody would want her; she +might go back to the Forest. Secrets and mysteries always come out in +the end. She had sagacity enough to know that she must not speak of what +she had seen; if the little boy was openly to be spoken of, he would +have been named to her. But she might speculate about him as much as she +pleased in the recesses of her fancy. And oh what a comfort was that! + +Mr. Fairfax at dinner observed her revived animation, and asked for an +account of her doings in Norminster. Then, and not till then, did Bessie +recollect his message to her uncle Laurence, and penitently confessed +her forgetfulness, unable to confess the occasion of it. "It is of no +importance; I took the precaution of writing to him this afternoon," +said her grandfather dryly, and Bessie's confusion was doubled. She +thought he would never have any confidence in her again. Presently he +said, "This is the last evening we shall be alone for some time, +Elizabeth. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister Mary, whom you have seen, +will arrive to-morrow, and on Thursday you will go with me to Lady +Angleby's for a few nights. I trust you will be able to make a friend of +Miss Burleigh." + +To this long speech Bessie gave her attention and a submissive assent, +followed by a rather silly wish: "I wish it was to Lady Latimer's we +were going instead of to Lady Angleby's; I don't like Lady Angleby." + +"That does not much matter if you preserve the same measure of courtesy +toward her as if you did," rejoined her grandfather. "It is unnecessary +to announce your preferences and prejudices by word of mouth, and it +would be unpardonable to obtrude them by your behavior. It is not of +obligation that because she is a grand lady you should esteem her, but +it is of obligation that you should curtsey to her; you understand me? +Do not let your ironical humor mislead you into forgetting the first +principle of good manners--to render to all their due." Mr. Fairfax +also had read Pascal. + +Bessie's cheeks burned under this severe admonition, but she did not +attempt to extenuate her fault, and after a brief silence her +grandfather said, to make peace, "It is not impossible that your longing +to see Lady Latimer may be gratified. She still comes into Woldshire at +intervals, and she will take an interest in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +election." But Bessie felt too much put down to trust herself to speak +again, and the rest of the meal passed in a constrained quiet. + +This was not the way towards a friendly and affectionate understanding. +Nevertheless, Bessie was not so crushed as she would have been but for +the vision of that unexplained cherub who had usurped the regions of her +imagination. If the time present wearied her, she had gained a wide +outlook to a _beyond_ that was bright enough to dream of, to inspire her +with hope, and sustain her against oppression. Mr. Fairfax discerned +that she felt her bonds more easy--perhaps expecting the time when they +would be loosed. His conjectures for a reason why were grounded on the +confidential propensities of women, and the probability that Mrs. +Stokes, during their long _tête-à-tête_ that day, had divulged the plots +for her wooing and wedding. How far wide of the mark these conjectures +were he would learn by and by. Meanwhile, as the effect of the unknown +magic was to make her gayer, more confident, and more interested in +passing events, he was well pleased. His preference was for sweet +acquiescence in women, but, for an exception, he liked his granddaughter +best when she was least afraid of him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +_PRELIMINARIES._ + + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh met Bessie Fairfax again with a courteous vivacity +and an air of intimate acquaintance. If he was not very glad to see her +he affected gladness well, and Bessie's vivid blushes were all the +welcome that was necessary to delude the witnesses into a belief that +they already understood one another. He was perfectly satisfied +himself, and his sister Mary, who worshipped him, thought Bessie sweetly +modest and pretty. And her mind was at peace for the results. + +There was a dinner-party at Abbotsmead that evening. Colonel and Mrs. +Stokes came, and Mr. Forbes and his mother, who lived with him (for he +was unmarried), a most agreeable old lady. It was much like other +dinner-parties in the country. The guests were all of one mind on +politics and the paramount importance of the landed interest, which gave +a delightful unanimity to the conversation. The table was round, so that +Miss Fairfax did not appear conspicuous as the lady of the house, but +she was not for that the less critically observed. Happily, she was +unconscious of the ordeal she underwent. She looked lovely in the face, +but her dress was not the elaborate dress of the other ladies; it was +still her prize-day white muslin, high to the throat and long to the +wrists, with a red rose in her belt, and an antique Normandy gold cross +for her sole ornament. The cross was a gift from Madame Fournier. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh, being seated next to her, was most condescending in his +efforts to be entertaining, and Bessie was not quite so uneasy under his +affability as she had been on board the yacht. Mrs. Stokes, who had +heard much of the Tory candidate, but now met him for the first time, +regarded him with awe, impressed by his distinguished air and fine +manners. But Bessie was more diffident than impressed. She did not talk +much; everybody else was so willing to talk that it was enough for her +to look charming. Once or twice her grandfather glanced towards her, +wishing to hear her voice--which was a most tunable voice--in reply to +her magnificent neighbor, but Bessie sat in beaming, beautiful silence, +lending him her ears, and at intervals giving him a monosyllabic reply. +She might certainly have done worse. She might have spoken foolishly, or +she might have said what she occasionally thought in contradiction of +his solemn opinions. And surely this would have been unwise? Her silence +was pleasing, and he wished for nothing in her different from what she +seemed. He liked her youthfulness, and approved her simplicity as an +eminently teachable characteristic; and if she was not able greatly to +interest or amuse him, perhaps that was not from any fault or +deficiency in herself, but from circumstances over which she had no +control. An old love, a true love, unwillingly relinquished, is a +powerful rival. + +The whole of the following day was at his service to walk and talk with +Bessie if he and she pleased, but Bessie invited Miss Burleigh into her +private parlor and went into seclusion. That was after breakfast, and +Mr. Cecil made a tour of the stables with the squire, and saw Janey take +her morning gallop. Then he spoke in praise of Janey's mistress while on +board the Foam, and with all the enthusiasm at his command of his own +hopes. They had not become expectations yet. + +"It is uphill work with Elizabeth," said her grandfather. "She cares for +none of us here." + +"The harder to win the more constant to keep," replied the aspirant +suitor cheerfully. + +"I shall put no pressure on her. Here is your opportunity, and you must +rely on yourself. She has a heart for those who can reach it, but my +efforts have fallen short thus far." This was not what the squire had +once thought to say. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh did not admire gushing, demonstrative women, and a +gushing wife would have wearied him inexpressibly. He felt an attraction +in Bessie's aloofness, and said again, "She is worth the pains she will +cost to win: a few years will mature her fine intelligence and make of +her a perfect companion. I admire her courageous simplicity; there is a +great deal in her character to work upon." + +"She is no cipher, certainly; if you are satisfied, I am," said Mr. +Fairfax resignedly. "Yet it is not flattering to think that she would +toss up her cap to go back to the Forest to-morrow." + +"Then she is loyal in affection to very worthy people. I have heard of +her Forest friends from Lady Latimer." + +"Lady Latimer has a great hold on Elizabeth's imagination. It would be a +good thing if she were to pay a visit to Hartwell; she might give her +young devotee some valuable instructions. Elizabeth is prejudiced +against me, and does not fall into her new condition so happily as I was +led to anticipate that she might." + +"She will wear to it. My sister Mary has an art of taming, and will +help her. I prefer her indifference to an undue elation: that would +argue a commonness of mind from which I imagine her to be quite free." + +"She has her own way of estimating us, and treats the state and luxury +of Abbotsmead as quite external to her. In her private thoughts, I fear, +she treats them as cumbrous lendings that she will throw off after a +season, and be gladly quit of their burden." + +"Better so than in the other extreme. A girl of heart and mind cannot be +expected to identify herself suddenly with the customs of a strange +rank. She was early trained in the habits of a simple household, but +from what I see there can have been nothing wanting of essential +refinement in Mrs. Carnegie. There is a crudeness in Miss Fairfax +yet--she is very young--but she will ripen sound and sweet to the core, +or I am much mistaken in the quality of the green fruit." + +The squire replied that he had no reason to believe his granddaughter +was otherwise than a good girl. And with that they left discussing her +and fell upon the election. Mr. Cecil Burleigh had a good courage for +the encounter, but he also had received intimations not to make too sure +of his success. The Fairfax influence had been so long in abeyance, so +long only a name in Norminster, that Mr. John Short began to quake the +moment he began to test it. Once upon a time Norminster had returned a +Fairfax as a matter of course, but for a generation its tendencies had +been more and more towards Liberalism, and at the last election it had +returned its old Whig member at the head of the poll, and in lieu of its +old Tory member a native lawyer, one Bradley, who professed Radicalism +on the hustings, but pruned his opinions in the House to the useful +working pattern of a supporter of the ministry. This prudent gentleman +was considered by a majority of his constituents not to have played +fair, and it was as against him, traitor and turncoat, that the old +Tories and moderate Conservatives were going to try to bring in Mr. +Cecil Burleigh. Both sides were prepared to spend money, and Norminster +was enjoying lively anticipations of a good time coming. + +While the gentlemen were thus discoursing to and fro the terrace under +the library window, Miss Burleigh in Bessie's parlor was instructing her +of her brother's political views. It is to be feared that Bessie was +less interested than the subject deserved, and also less interested in +the proprietor of the said views than his sister supposed her to be. She +listened respectfully, however, and did not answer very much at random, +considering that she was totally ignorant beforehand of all that was +being explained to her. At length she said, "I must begin to read the +newspapers. I know much better what happened in the days of Queen +Elizabeth than what has happened in my own lifetime;" and then Miss +Burleigh left politics, and began to speak of her brother's personal +ambition and personal qualities; to relate anecdotes of his signal +success at Eton and at Oxford; to expatiate on her own devotion to him, +and the great expectations founded by all his family upon his high +character and splendid abilities. She added that he had the finest +temper in the world, and that he was ardently affectionate. + +Bessie smiled at this. She believed that she knew where his ardent +affections were centred; and then she blushed at the tormenting +recollection of how she had interpreted his assiduities to herself +before making that discovery. Miss Burleigh saw the blush, seeming to +see nothing, and said softly, "I envy the woman who has to pass her life +with Cecil. I can imagine nothing more contenting than his society to +one he loves." + +Bessie's blush was perpetuated. She would have liked to mention Miss +Julia Gardiner, but she felt a restraining delicacy in speaking of what +had come to her knowledge in such a casual way, and more than ever +ashamed of her own ridiculous mistake. Suddenly she broke out with an +odd query, at the same moment clapping her hands to her traitorous +cheeks: "Do you ever blush at your own foolish fancies? Oh, how tiresome +it is to have a trick of blushing! I wish I could get over it." + +"It is a trick we get over quite early enough. The fancies girls blush +at are so innocent. I have had none of that pretty sort for a long +while." + +Miss Burleigh looked sympathetic and amused. Bessie was silent for a few +minutes and full of thought. Presently, in a musing, meditative voice, +she said, "Ambition! I suppose all men who have force enough to do great +things long for an opportunity to do them; and that we call ambition. +Harry Musgrave is ambitious. He is going to be a lawyer. What can a +famous lawyer become?" + +"Lord chancellor, the highest civil dignity under the Crown." + +"Then I shall set my mind on seeing Harry lord chancellor," cried Bessie +with bold conclusion. + +"And when he retires from office, though he may have held it for ever so +short a time, he will have a pension of five thousand a year." + +"How pleasant! What a grateful country! Then he will be able to buy +Brook and spend his holidays there. Dear old Harry! We were like brother +and sister once, and I feel as if I had a right to be proud of him, as +you are of your brother Cecil. Women have no chance of being ambitious +on their own account, have they?" + +"Oh yes. Women are as ambitious of rank, riches, and power as men are; +and some are ambitious of doing what they imagine to be great deeds. You +will probably meet one at Brentwood, a most beautiful lady she is--a +Mrs. Chiverton." + +Bessie's countenance flashed: "She was a Miss Hiloe, was she not--Ada +Hiloe? I knew her. She was at Madame Fournier's--she and a younger +sister--during my first year there." + +"Then you will be glad to meet again. She was married in Paris only the +other day, and has come into Woldshire a bride. They say she is showing +herself a prodigy of benevolence round her husband's magnificent seat +already: she married him that she might have the power to do good with +his immense wealth. There must always be some self-sacrifice in a lofty +ambition, but hers is a sacrifice that few women could endure to pay." + +Bessie held her peace. She had been instructed how all but impossible it +is to live in the world and be absolutely truthful; and what perplexed +her in this new character of her old school-fellow she therefore +supposed to be the veil of glamour which the world requires to have +thrown over an ugly, naked truth. + +About eleven o'clock the two young ladies walked out across the park +towards the lodge, to pay a visit to Mrs. Stokes. Then they walked on to +the village, and home again by the mill. The morning seemed long drawn +out. Then followed luncheon, and after it Mr. Cecil Burleigh drove in an +open carriage with Bessie and his sister to Hartwell. The afternoon was +very clear and pleasant, and the scenery sufficiently varied. On the +road Bessie learnt that Hartwell was the early home of Lady Latimer, and +still the residence of her bachelor brother and two maiden sisters. + +The very name of Lady Latimer acted like a spell on Bessie. She had been +rather silent and reserved until she heard it, and then all at once she +roused up into a vivid interest. Mr. Cecil Burleigh studied her more +attentively than he had done hitherto. Miss Burleigh said, "Lady Latimer +is another of our ambitious women. Miss Fairfax fancies women can have +no ambition on their own account, Cecil. I have been telling her of Mrs. +Chiverton." + +"And what does Miss Fairfax say of Mrs. Chiverton's ambition?" asked Mr. +Cecil Burleigh. + +"Nothing," rejoined Bessie. But her delicate lip and nostril expressed a +great deal. + +The man of the world preferred her reticence to the wisest speech. He +mused for several minutes before he spoke again himself. Then he gave +air to some of his reflections: "Lady Latimer has great qualities. Her +marriage was the blunder of her youth. Her girlish imagination was +dazzled by the name of a lord and the splendor of Umpleby. It remains to +be considered that she was not one of the melting sort, and that she +made her life noble." + +Here Miss Burleigh took up the story: "That is true. But she would have +made it more noble if she had been faithful to her first love--to your +grandfather, Miss Fairfax." + +Bessie colored. "Oh, were they fond of each other when they were young?" +she asked wondering. + +"Your grandfather was devoted to her. He had just succeeded to +Abbotsmead. All the world thought it would be a match, and great +promotion for her too, when she met Lord Latimer. He was sixty and she +was nineteen, and they lived together thirty-seven years, for he +survived into quite extreme old age." + +"And she had no children, and my grandfather married somebody else?" +said Bessie with a plaintive fall in her voice. + +"She had no children, and your grandfather married somebody else. Lady +Latimer was a most excellent wife to her old tyrant." + +Bessie looked sorrowful: "Was he a tyrant? I wonder whether she ever +pities herself for the love she threw away? She is quite alone--she +would give anything that people should love her now, I have heard them +say in the Forest." + +"That is the revenge that slighted love so often takes. But she must +have satisfaction in her life too. She was always more proud than +tender, except perhaps to her friend, Dorothy Fairfax. You have heard of +your great-aunt Dorothy?" + +"Yes. I have succeeded to her rooms, to her books. My grandfather says I +remind him of her." + +"Dorothy Fairfax never forgave Lady Latimer. They had been familiar +friends, and there was a double separation. Oh, it is quite a romance! +My aunt, Lady Angleby, could tell you all about it, for she was quite +one with them at Abbotsmead and Hartwell in those days; indeed, the +intimacy has never been interrupted. And you know Lady Latimer--you +admire her?" + +"I used to admire her enthusiastically. I should like to see her again." + +After this there was silence until the drive ended at Hartwell. Bessie +was meditating on the glimpse she had got into the pathetic past of her +grandfather's life, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister were +meditating upon her. + +Hartwell was a modest brick house within a garden skirting the road. It +had a retired air, as of a poor gentleman's house whose slender fortunes +limit his tastes: Mr. Oliver Smith's fortunes were very slender, and he +shared them with two maiden sisters. The shrubs were well grown and the +grass was well kept, but there was no show of the gorgeous scentless +flowers which make the gardens of the wealthy so gay and splendid in +summer. Ivy clothed the walls, and old-fashioned flowers bloomed all +the year round in the borders, but it was not a very cheerful garden in +the afternoon. + +Two elderly ladies were pacing the lawn arm-in-arm, with straw hats +tilted over their noses, when the Abbotsmead carriage stopped at the +gate. They stood an instant to see whose it was, and then hurried +forward to welcome their visitors. + +"This is very kind, Mr. Cecil, very kind, Miss Mary; but you always are +kind in remembering old friends," said the elder, Miss Juliana, and then +was silent, gazing at Bessie. + +"This is Miss Fairfax," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. "Lady Latimer has no +doubt named her in her letters." + +"Ah! yes, yes--what am I dreaming about? Charlotte," turning to her +sister, "who is she like?" + +"She is like poor Dorothy," was the answer in a tremulous, solemn voice. +"What will Oliver say?" + +"How long is it since Lady Latimer saw you, my dear?" asked Miss +Juliana. + +"Three years. I have not been home to the Forest since I left it to go +to school in France." + +"Ah! Then that accounts for our sister not having mentioned to us your +wonderful resemblance to your great-aunt, Dorothy Fairfax. Three years +alter and refine a child's chubby face into a young woman's face." + +Miss Juliana seemed to be thrown into irretrievable confusion by +Bessie's apparition and her own memory. She was quite silent as she led +the way to the house, walking between Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister. +Miss Charlotte walked behind with Bessie, and remarked that she was +pleased to have a link of acquaintance with her already by means of Lady +Latimer. Bessie asked whether Lady Latimer was likely soon to come into +Woldshire. + +"We have not heard that she has any present intention of visiting us. +Her visits are few and far between," was the formal reply. + +"I wish she would. When I was a little girl she was my ideal of all that +is grand, gracious, and lovely," said Bessie. + +Bessie's little outbreak had done her good, had set her tongue at +liberty. Her self-consciousness was growing less obtrusive. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh explained to her the legal process of an election for a member +of Parliament, and Miss Burleigh sat by in satisfied silence, observing +the quick intelligence of her face and the flattered interest in her +brother's. At the park gates, Mr. Fairfax, returning from a visit to one +of his farmsteads where building was in progress, met the carriage and +got in. His first question was what Mr. Oliver Smith had said about the +coming election, and whether he would be in Norminster the following +day. + +The news about Buller troubled him no little, to judge by his +countenance, but he did not say much beyond an exclamation that they +would carry the contest through, let it cost what it might. "We have +been looking forward to this contest ever since Bradley was returned +five years ago; we will not be so faint-hearted as to yield without a +battle. If we are defeated again, we may count Norminster lost to the +Conservative interest." + +"Oh, don't talk of defeat! We shall be far more likely to win if we +refuse to contemplate the possibility of defeat," cried Bessie with +girlish vivacity. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh laughed and said, "Miss Fairfax is right. She will +wear my colors and I will adopt her logic, and, ostrich-like, refuse to +see the perils that threaten me." + +"No, no," remonstrated Bessie casting off her shy reserve under +encouragement. "So far from hiding your face, you must make it familiar +in every street in Norminster. You must seek if you would find, and ask +if you would have. I would. I should hate to be beaten by my own +neglect, worse than by my rival." + +Mr. Fairfax was electrified at this brusque assertion of her sentiments +by his granddaughter. Her audacity seemed at least equal to her shyness. +"Very good advice, Elizabeth; make him follow it," said he dryly. + +"We will give him no rest when we have him at Brentwood," added Miss +Burleigh. "But though he is so cool about it, I believe he is dreadfully +in earnest. Are you not, Cecil?" + +"I will not be beaten by my own neglect," was his rejoinder, with a +glance at Bessie, blushing beautifully. + +They did not relapse into constraint any more that day. There was no +addition to the company at dinner, and the evening being genially warm, +they enjoyed it in the garden. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Miss Fairfax even +strolled as far as the ruins in the park, and on the way he enlightened +her respecting some of his opinions, tastes, and prejudices. She heard +him attentively, and found him very instructive. His clever conversation +was a compliment to which, as a bright girl, she was not insensible. His +sister had detailed to him her behavior on her introduction to Lady +Angleby, and had deplored her lively sense of the ridiculous. Miss +Burleigh had the art of taming that her brother credited her with, and +Elizabeth was already at ease and happy with her--free to be herself, as +she felt, and not always on guard and measuring her words; and the more +of her character that she revealed, the better Miss Burleigh liked her. +Her gayety of temper was very attractive when it was kept within due +bounds, and she had a most sweet docility of tractableness when +approached with caution. At the close of the evening she retired to her +white parlor with a rather exalted feeling of responsibility, having +promised, at Mr. Cecil Burleigh's instigation, to study certain essays +of Lord Bacon on government and seditions in states for the informing of +her mind. She took the volume down from Dorothy Fairfax's bookshelf, and +laid it on her table for a reminder. Miss Burleigh saw it there in the +morning. + +"Ah, dear Cecil! He will try to make you very wise and learned," said +she, nodding her head and smiling significantly. "But never mind: he +waltzes to perfection, and delights in a ball, no man more." + +"Does he?" cried Bessie, amused and laughing. "That potent, grave, and +reverend signor can condescend, then, to frivolities! Oh, when shall we +have a ball that I may waltz with him?" + +"Soon, if all go successfully at the election. Lady Angleby will give a +ball if Cecil win and you ask her." + +"_I_ ask her! But I should never dare." + +"She will be only too glad of the opportunity, and you may dare anything +with her when she is pleased. She has always been dear Cecil's fast +friend, and his triumph will be hers. She will want to celebrate it +joyously, and nothing is really so joyous as a good dance. We will have +a good dance." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +_BESSIE SHOWS CHARACTER._ + + +At breakfast, Mr. Fairfax handed a letter to Bessie. "From home, from my +mother," said she in a glad undertone, and instantly, without apology, +opened and read it. Mr. Cecil Burleigh took a furtive observation of her +while she was thus occupied. What a good countenance she had! how the +slight emotion of her lips and the lustrous shining under her dark +eyelashes enhanced her beauty! It was a letter to make her happy, to +give her a light heart to go to Brentwood with. Mrs. Carnegie was always +sympathetic, cheerful, and loving in her letters. She encouraged her +dear Bessie to reconcile herself to absence, and attach herself to her +new home by cultivating all its sources of interest, and especially the +affection of her grandfather. She gave her much tender, reasonable +advice for her guidance, and she gave her good news: they were all well +at home and at Brook, and Harry Musgrave had come out in honors at +Oxford. The sunshine of pure content irradiated Bessie's face. She +looked up; she wanted to communicate her joy. Her grandfather looked up +at the same moment, and their eyes met. + +"Would you like to read it? It is from my mother," she said, holding out +the letter with an impulse to be good to him. + +"I can trust you with your correspondence, Elizabeth," was his reply. + +She drew back her hand quickly, and laid down the letter by her plate. +She sipped her tea, her throat aching, her eyes swimming. The squire +began to talk rather fast and loud, and in a few minutes, the meal being +over, he pushed away his chair and left the room. + +"The train we go into Norminster by reaches Mitford Junction at ten +thirty-five," observed Mr. Cecil Burleigh. + +Bessie rose and vanished with a mutinous air, which made him laugh and +whisper to his sister, as she disappeared, that the young lady had a +rare spirit. Mr. Fairfax was in the hall. She went swiftly up to him, +and laying a hand on his arm, said, in a quivering, resolute voice, +"Read my letter, grandpapa. If you will not recognize those I have the +best right to love, we shall be strangers always, you and I." + +"Come up stairs: I will read your letter," said the old man shortly, and +he mounted to her parlor, she still keeping her hold on his arm. He +stood at her table and read it, and laid it down without a word, but, +glancing aside at her pleasing face, he was moved to kiss her, and then +promptly effected his escape from her tyranny. He was not displeased, +and Bessie was triumphant. + +"Now we can begin to be friends," she cried softly, clapping her hands. +"I refuse to be frightened. I shall always tell him my news, and make +him listen. If he is sarcastic, I won't care. He will respect me if I +assert my right to be respected, and maintain that my father and mother +at Beechhurst have the first and best claim on my love. He shall not +recognize them as belonging only to my past life; he shall acknowledge +them as belonging to me always. And Harry too!" + +These strong resolutions arising out of that letter from the Forest +exhilarated Bessie exceedingly. There was perhaps more guile in her than +was manifest on slight acquaintance, but it was the guile of a wise, +warm heart. All trace of emotion had passed away when she came down +stairs, and when her grandfather, assisting her into the carriage, +squeezed her fingers confidentially, her new, all-pervading sense of +happiness was confirmed and established. And the courage that happiness +inspires was hers too. + +At Mitford Junction, Colonel and Mrs. Stokes and Mr. Oliver Smith joined +their party, and they travelled to Norminster together. The old city was +going quietly about its business much as usual when they drove through +the streets to the "George," where Mr. Cecil Burleigh was to meet his +committee and address the electors out of the big middle bow-window. +Miss Jocund's shop was nearly opposite to the inn, and thither the +ladies at once adjourned, that Bessie might assume her blue bonnet. The +others were already handsomely provided. Miss Jocund was quite at +liberty to attend to them at this early hour of the day--her "gentleman" +had not come in yet--and she conducted them to her show-room over the +shop with the complacent alacrity of a milliner confident that she is +about to give supreme satisfaction. And indeed Mrs. Stokes cried out +with rapture, the instant the bonnet filled her eye, that it was "A +sweet little bonnet--blue crape and white marabouts!" + +Bessie smiled most becomingly as it was tried on, and blushed at herself +in the glass. "But a shower of rain will spoil it," she objected, +nodding the downy white feathers that topped the brim. She was +proceeding philosophically to tie the glossy broad strings in a bow +under her round chin when Miss Jocund stepped hastily to the rescue, and +Mrs. Betts entered with a curtsey, and a blue silk slip on her arm. +"What next?" Bessie demanded of the waiting-woman in rosy consternation. + +"I am afraid we must trouble you, Miss Fairfax, but not much, I hope," +insinuated Miss Jocund with a queer, deprecating humility. "There is a +good half hour to spare. Since Eve put on a little cool foliage, female +dress has developed so extensively that it is necessary to try some +ladies on six times to avoid a misfit. But your figure is perfectly +proportioned, and I resolved, for once, to chance it on my knowledge of +anatomy, supplemented by an embroidered dress from your wardrobe. If you +_will_ be _so_ kind: a stitch here and a stitch there, and my delightful +duty is accomplished." + +Miss Jocund's speeches had always a touch of mockery, and Bessie, being +in excellent spirits, laughed good-humoredly, but denied her request. +"No, no," said she, "I will not be so kind. Your lovely blue bonnet +would be thrown away if I did not look pleasant under it, and how could +I look pleasant after the painful ordeal of trying on?" + +Mrs. Stokes, with raised eyebrows, was about to remonstrate, Mrs. Betts, +with flushed dismay, was about to argue, when Miss Jocund interposed; +she entered into the young lady's sentiments: "Miss Fairfax has spoken, +and Miss Fairfax is right. A pleasant look is the glory of a woman's +face, and without a pleasant look, if I were a single gentleman a woman +might wear a coal-scuttle for me." + +At this crisis there occurred a scuffle and commotion on the stairs, and +Bessie recognized a voice she had heard elsewhere--a loud, ineffectual +voice--pleading, "Master Justus, Master Justus, you are not to go to +your granny in the show-room;" and in Master Justus bounced--lovely, +delicious, in the whitest of frilly pinafores and most boisterous of +naughty humors. + +Bessie Fairfax stooped down and opened her arms with rapturous +invitation. "Come, oh, you bonnie boy!" and she caught him up, shook +him, kissed him, tickled him, with an exuberant fun that he evidently +shared, and frantically retaliated by pulling down her hair. + +This was very agreeable to Bessie, but Miss Jocund looked like an angry +sphinx, and as the defeated nurse appeared she said with suppressed +excitement, "Sally, how often must I warn you to keep the boy out of the +show-room? Carry him away." The flaxen cherub was born off kicking and +howling; Bessie looked as if she were being punished herself, Mrs. +Stokes stood confounded, Mrs. Betts turned red. Only Miss Burleigh +seemed unaffected, and inquired simply whose that little boy was. +"_Mine_, ma'am," replied the milliner with an emphasis that forbade +further question. But Miss Burleigh's reflective powers were awakened. + +Mrs. Betts, that woman of resources and experience, standing with the +blue silk slip half dropt on the Scotch carpet at her feet, reverted to +the interrupted business of the hour as if there had been no break. "And +if, when it comes to dressing this evening at Lady Angleby's, there's +not a thing that fits?" she bitterly suggested. + +"I will answer for it that everything fits," said Miss Jocund, +recovering herself with more effort. "I have worked on true principles. +But"--with a persuasive inclination towards Bessie--"if Miss Fairfax +will condescend to inspect my productions, she will gratify me and +herself also." + +As she spoke Miss Jocund threw open the door of an adjoining room, where +the said productions were elaborately laid out, and Mrs. Stokes ran in +to have the first view. Miss Burleigh followed. Bessie, with a rather +unworthy distrust, refused to advance beyond the doorway; but, looking +in, she beheld clouds upon clouds of blue and white puffery, tulle and +tarletan, and shining breadths of silk of the same delicate hues, with +fans, gloves, bows, wreaths, shoes, ribbons, sashes, laces--a portentous +confusion. After a few seconds of disturbed contemplation, during which +she was lending an ear to the remote shrieks of that darling boy, she +said--and surely it was provoking!--"The half would be better than the +whole. I am sorry for you, Mrs. Betts, if you are to have all those +works of art on your mind till they are worn out." + +"Indeed, miss, if you don't show more feeling, my mind will give way," +retorted Mrs. Betts. "It is the first time in my long experience that +ever a young lady so set me at defiance as to refuse to try on new +dresses. And all one's credit at stake upon her appearance! In a great +house like Brentwood, too!" + +Those piercing cries continued to rise higher and higher. Miss Jocund, +with a vexed exclamation, dropped some piece of finery on which she was +beginning to dilate, and vanished by another door. In a minute the noise +was redoubled with a passionate intensity. Bessie's eyes filled; she +knew that old-fashioned discipline was being administered, and her heart +ached dreadfully. She even offered to rush to the rescue, but Mrs. Betts +intercepted her with a stern "Better let me do up your hair, miss," +while Mrs. Stokes, moved by sympathetic tenderness, whispered, "Stop +your ears; it is necessary, _quite_ necessary, now and then, I assure +you." Oh, did not Bessie know? had she not little brothers? When there +was silence, Miss Jocund returned, and without allusion to the nursery +tragedy resumed her task of displaying the fruits of her toils. + +Bessie, with a yearning sigh, composed herself, laid hands on her blue +bonnet while nobody was observing, and moved away to an open window in +the show-room that commanded the street. Deliberately she tied the +strings in the fashion that pleased her, and seated herself to look out +where a few men and boys were collecting on the edge of the pavement to +await the appearance of the Conservative candidate at the bow-window +over the portico of the "George." Presently, Mrs. Stokes joined her, +shaking her head, and saying with demure rebuke, "You naughty girl! And +this is all you care for pretty things?" Miss Burleigh, with more real +seriousness, hoped that the pretty things would be right. Miss Jocund +came forward with a natural professional anxiety to hear their opinions, +and when she saw the bonnet-strings tied clasped her hands in acute +regret, but said nothing. Mrs. Betts, a picture of injured virtue, held +herself aloof beyond the sea of finery, gazing across it at her +insensible young mistress with eyes of mournful indignation. Bessie felt +herself the object of general misunderstanding and reproach, and was +stirred up to extenuate her untoward behavior in a strain of mischievous +sarcasm. + +"Don't look so distressed, all of you," she pleaded. "How can I interest +myself to-day in anything but Mr. Cecil Burleigh's address to the +electors of Norminster and my own new bonnet?" + +"_That_ is very becoming, for a consolation," said the milliner with an +affronted air. + +"I think it is," rejoined Bessie coolly. "And if you will not bedizen me +with artificial flowers, and will exonerate me from wearing dresses that +crackle, I shall be happy. Did you not promise to give me simplicity and +no imitations, Miss Jocund?" + +"I cannot deny it, Miss Fairfax. Natural leaves and flowers are my +taste, and graceful soft outlines of drapery; but when it is the mode to +wear tall wreaths of painted calico, and to be bustled off in twenty +yards of stiff, cheap tarletan, most ladies conform to the mode, on the +axiom that they might as well be out of the world as out of the fashion. +And nothing comes up so ugly and outrageous but there are some who will +have it in the very extreme." + +"I am quite aware of the pains many women take to be displeasing, but I +thought you understood that was not 'my style, my taste,'" said Bessie, +quoting the milliner's curt query at their first interview. + +"I understand now, Miss Fairfax, that there are things here you would +rather be without. I will not pack up the tarletan skirts and artificial +flowers. With the two morning silks and two dinner silks, and the tulle +over the blue slip for a possible dance, perhaps you will be able to go +through your visit to Brentwood?" + +"I trust so," said Bessie. "But if I need anything more I will write to +you." + +There was an odd pause of silence, in which Bessie looked out of the +window, and the rest looked at one another with a furtive, defeated, +amused acknowledgment that this young lady, so ignorant of the world, +knew how to take her own part, and would not be controlled in the +exercise of her senses by any irregular, usurped authority. Mrs. Betts +saw her day-dream of perquisites vanish. Both she and Miss Jocund had +got their lesson, and they remembered it. + +A welcome interruption came with the sound of swift wheels and +high-stepping horses in the street, and the ladies pressed forward to +see. "Lady Angleby's carriage," said Miss Burleigh as it whirled past +and drew up at the "George." She was now in haste to be gone and join +her aunt, but Bessie lingered at the window to witness the great lady's +reception by the gentlemen who came out of the inn to meet her. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh was foremost, and Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Oliver Smith, Mr. +Forbes, and several more, yet strangers to Bessie, supported him. One +who bowed with extreme deference she recognized, at a second glance, as +Mr. John Short, her grandfather's companion on his memorable visit to +Beechhurst, which resulted in her severance from that dear home of her +childhood. The sight of him brought back some vexed recollections, but +she sighed and shook them off, and on Miss Burleigh's again inviting her +to come away to the "George" to Lady Angleby, she rose and followed her. + +"Look pleasant," said Miss Jocund, standing by the door as Bessie went +out, and Bessie laughed and was obedient. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +_A QUIET POLICY._ + + +Lady Angleby received Bessie Fairfax with a gracious affability, and if +Bessie had desired to avail herself of the privilege there was a cheek +offered her to kiss, but she did not appear to see it. Her mind was +running on that boy, and her countenance was blithe as sunshine. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax came forward to shake hands, and Mr. John Short +respectfully claimed her acquaintance. They were in a smaller room, +adjoining the committee-room, where the majority of the gentlemen had +assembled, and Bessie said to Miss Burleigh, "We should see and hear +better in Miss Jocund's window;" but Miss Burleigh showed her that Miss +Jocund's window was already filled, and that the gathering on the +pavement was increasing. Soon after twelve it increased fast, with the +workmen halting during a few minutes of their hour's release for dinner, +but it never became a crowd, and the affair was much flatter than Bessie +had expected. The new candidate was introduced by Mr. Oliver Smith, who +spoke very briefly, and then made way for the candidate himself. Bessie +could not see Mr. Cecil Burleigh, nor hear his words, but she observed +that he was listened to, and jeeringly questioned only twice, and on +both occasions his answer was received with cheers. + +"You will read his speech in the _Norminster Gazette_ on Saturday, or he +will tell you the substance of it," Miss Burleigh said. "Extremes meet +in politics as in other things, and much of Cecil's creed will suit the +root-and-branch men as well as the fanatics of his own party." Bessie +wondered a little, but said nothing; she had thought moderation Mr. +Cecil Burleigh's characteristic. + +A school of young ladies passed without difficulty behind the scanty +throng, and five minutes after the speaking was over the street was +empty. + +"Buller was not there," said Mr. John Short to Mr. Oliver Smith, and +from the absence of mirth amongst the gentlemen, Bessie conjectured that +there was a general sense of failure and disappointment. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh preserved his dignified composure, and came up to +Bessie, who said, "This is only the beginning?" + +"Only the beginning--the real work is all to do," said he, and entered +into a low-toned exposition thereof quite calmly. + +It was at this moment that Mr. John Short, happening to cast an eye upon +the two, received one of those happy inspirations that visit in +emergency men of superior resources and varied experience. At Lady +Angleby's behest the pretty ladies in blue bonnets set out to shop, pay +calls in the town, and show their colors, and the agent attached himself +to the party. They all left the "George" together, but it was not long +before they divided, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Bessie, having nowhere +particular where they wished to go, wandered towards the minster. Mr. +John Short, without considering whether his company might be acceptable, +adhered to them, and at length boldly suggested that they were not far +from the thoroughfare in which the "Red Lion" was situated, and that a +word from the aspirant candidate to Buller might not be thrown away. + +It was the hour of the afternoon when the host of the "Red Lion" sat at +the receipt of news and custom, smoking his pipe after dinner in the +shade of an old elm tree by his own door. He was a burly man, with a +becoming sense of his importance and weight in the world, and as honest +a desire to do his share in mending it as his betters. He was not to be +bought by any of the usual methods of electioneering sale and barter, +but he had a soft place in his heart that Mr. John Short knew of, and +was not therefore to be relinquished as altogether invulnerable. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh could not affect the jocose and familiar, but perhaps +his plain way of address was a higher compliment to the publican's +understanding. "Is it true, Buller, that you balance about voting again +for Bradley? Think of it, and see if you cannot return to the old flag," +was all he said. + +"Sir, I mean to think of it," replied Buller with equal directness. "I'm +pleased with what I hear of you, and I like a gentleman, but Bradley +explains his puzzling conduct very plausibly: it is no use being +factious and hindering business in the House, as he says. And it can't +be denied that there's Tory members in the House as factious as any of +them pestilent Radical chaps that get up strikes out of doors. I'm not +saying that you would be one of them, sir." + +"I hope not. For no party considerations would I hinder any advance or +reform that I believe to be for the good of the country." + +"I am glad to hear it, sir; you would be what we call an independent +member. My opinion is, sir, that sound progress feels its way and takes +one step at a time, and if it tries to go too fast it overleaps itself." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was not prepared for political disquisition on the +pavement in front of the "Red Lion," but he pondered an instant on Mr. +Buller's platitude as if it were a new revelation, and then said with +quiet cordiality, "Well, think of it, and if you decide to give me your +support, it will be the more valuable as being given on conviction. +Good-day to you, Buller." + +The publican had risen, and laid aside his pipe. "Good-day to you, sir," +said he, and as Bessie inclined her fair head to him also, he bowed with +more confusion and pleasure than could have been expected from the host +of a popular tavern. + +Mr. John Short lingered behind, and as the beautiful young people +retired out of hearing, admiringly watched by the publican, the lawyer +plied his insinuating craft and whispered, "You are always a +good-natured man, Buller. Look at those two--_No election, no wedding_." + +"You don't say so!" ejaculated Buller with kindly sympathy in his voice. +"A pretty pair, indeed, to run in a curricle! I should think now his +word's as good as his bond--eh? Egad, then, I'll give 'em a plumper!" + +The agent shook hands with him on it delighted. "You are a man of your +word too, Buller. I thank you," he said with fervor, and felt that this +form of bribery and corruption had many excuses besides its success. He +did not intend to divulge by what means the innkeeper's pledge had been +obtained, lest his chief might not quite like it, and with a few nods, +becks, and half-words he ensured Buller's silence on the delicate family +arrangement that he had so prematurely confided to his ear. And then he +went back to the "George" with the approving conscience of an agent who +has done his master good secret service without risking any impeachment +of his honor. He fully expected that time would make his words true. +Unless in that confidence, Mr. Short was not the man to have spoken +them, even to win an election. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Miss Fairfax strolled a little farther, and then +retraced their steps to the minster, and went in to hear the anthem. +Presently appeared in the distance Mr. Fairfax and Miss Burleigh, and +when the music was over signed to them to come away. Lady Angleby was +waiting in the carriage at the great south door to take them home, and +in the beautiful light of the declining afternoon they drove out of the +town to Brentwood--a big, square, convenient old house, surrounded by a +pleasant garden divided from the high-road by a belt of trees. + +Mrs. Betts was already installed in the chamber allotted to her young +lady, and had spread out the pretty new clothes she was to wear. She was +deeply serious, and not disposed to say much after her morning's lesson. +Bessie had apparently dismissed the recollection of it. She came in all +good-humor and cheerfulness. She hummed a soft little tune, and for the +first time submitted patiently to the assiduities of the experienced +waiting-woman. Mrs. Betts did not fail to make her own reflections +thereupon, and to interpret favorably Miss Fairfax's evidently happy +preoccupation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +_A DINNER AT BRENTWOOD._ + + +There was rejoicing at Brentwood that evening. All the guests staying in +the house were assembled in the drawing-room before dinner, when Mr. +Oliver Smith, who had retained quarters at the "George," walked in with +an appearance of high satisfaction, and immediately began to say, "I +bring you good news. Buller has made up his mind to do the right thing, +Burleigh, and give you a plumper. He hailed my cab as I was passing the +'Red Lion' on my road here, and told me his decision. Do you carry +witchcraft about with you?" + +"Buller could not resist the old name and the old colors. Miss Fairfax +is my witchcraft," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh with a profound bow to +Bessie, in gay acknowledgment of her unconscious services. + +Bessie blushed with pleasure, and said, "Indeed, I never opened my +mouth." + +"Oh, charms work in silence," said Mr. Oliver Smith. + +Lady Angleby was delighted; Mr. Fairfax looked gratified, and gave his +granddaughter an approving nod. + +The next and last arrivals were Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton. Mr. Chiverton +was known to all present, but the bride was a stranger except to one or +two. She was attired in rich white silk--in full dress--so terribly +trying to the majority of women, and Bessie Fairfax's first thought on +seeing her again was how much less beautiful she was than in her simple +_percale_ dresses at school. She did not notice Bessie at once, but when +their eyes met and Bessie smiled, she ran to embrace her with expansive +cordiality. Bessie, her beaming comeliness notwithstanding, could assume +in an instant a touch-me-not air, and gave her hand only, though that +with a kind frankness; and then they sat down and talked of Caen. + +Mrs. Chiverton's report as a woman of extraordinary beauty and virtue +had preceded her into her husband's country, but to the general observer +Miss Fairfax was much more pleasing. She also wore full dress--white +relieved with blue--but she was also able to wear it with a grace; for +her arms were lovely, and all her contours fair, rounded, and dimpled, +while Mrs. Chiverton's tall frame, though very stately, was very bony, +and her little head and pale, classical face, her brown hair not +abundant, and eyes too cold and close together, with that expression of +intense pride which is a character in itself, required a taste +cultivated amidst statuary to appreciate. This taste Mr. Chiverton +possessed, and his wife satisfied it perfectly. + +Bessie looked at Mr. Chiverton with curiosity, and looked quickly away +again, retaining an impression of a cur-like face with a fixed sneer +upon it. He was not engaged in conversation at the time; he was +contemplating his handsome wife with critical admiration, as he might +have contemplated a new acquisition in his gallery of antique marbles. +In his eyes the little girl beside her was a mere golden-haired, rosy, +plump rustic, who served as a foil to his wife's Minerva-like beauty. + +Lady Angleby was great lady enough to have her own by-laws of etiquette +in her own house, and her nephew was assigned to take Miss Fairfax to +dinner. They sat side by side, and were wonderfully sociable at one end +of the table, with the hostess and Mr. Fairfax facing them at the other. +Besides the guests already introduced, there was one other gentleman, +very young--Sir Edward Lucas--whose privilege it was to escort Mrs. +Chiverton. Mr. Forbes gave his arm to Miss Burleigh. Mr. Chiverton and +Mr. Oliver Smith had no ladies: Lady Angleby liked a preponderance of +gentlemen at her entertainments. Everybody talked and was pleasant, and +Bessie Fairfax felt almost at ease, so fast does confidence grow in the +warm atmosphere of courtesy and kindness. When the ladies retired to the +drawing-room she was bidden to approach Lady Angleby's footstool, and +treated caressingly; while Mrs. Chiverton was allowed to converse on +philanthropic missions with Miss Burleigh, who yawned behind her fan and +marvelled at the splendor of the bride's jewels. + +In the dining-room conversation became more animated when the gentlemen +were left to themselves. Mr. Chiverton loved to take the lead. He had +said little during dinner, but now he began to talk with vivacity, and +was heard with the attention that must be paid to an old man possessed +of enormous wealth and the centre of great connexions. He was accustomed +to this deference, and cared perhaps for none other. He had a vast +contempt for his fellow-creatures, and was himself almost universally +detested. But he could bear it, sustained by the bitter tonic of his own +numerous aversions. One chief aversion was present at this moment in the +elegant person of Mr. Oliver Smith. Mr. Oliver Smith was called not too +strong in the head, but he was good, and possessed the irresistible +influence of goodness. Mr. Chiverton hated his mild tenacity. His own +temper was purely despotic. He had represented a division of the county +for several years, and had finally retired from Parliament in dudgeon at +the success of the Liberal party and policy. After some general remarks +on the approaching election, came up the problem of reconciling the +quarrel between labor and capital, then already growing to such +proportions that the whole community, alarmed, foresaw that it might +have ere long to suffer with the disputants. The immediate cause of the +reference was the fact of a great landowner named Gifford having asked +for soldiers from Norminster to aid his farmers in gathering in the +harvest, which was both early and abundant. The request had been +granted. The dearth of labor on his estates arose from various causes, +but primarily from there not being cottages enough to house the +laborers, his father and he having both pursued the policy of driving +them to a distance to keep down the rates. + +"The penuriousness of rich men is a constant surprise to me," said Mr. +Forbes. "Dunghill cottages are not so frequent as they were, but there +are still a vast number too many. When old Gifford made a solitude +round him, Blagg built those reed-thatched hovels at Morte which +contribute more poor rogues to the quarter sessions than all the +surrounding parishes. That strip of debatable land is the seedbed of +crime and misery: the laborers take refuge in the hamlet, and herd +together as animals left to their own choice never do herd; but their +walk to and from their work is shortened by one half, and they have +their excuse. We should probably do the same ourselves." + +"The cottages of the small proprietors are always the worst," remarked +Mr. Chiverton. + +"If you and Gifford would combine to rebuild the houses you have allowed +to decay or have pulled down, Morte would soon be left to the owls and +the bats," said the clergyman. "By far the larger majority of the men +are employed on your farms, and it is no longer for your advantage that +their strength should be spent in walking miles to work--if ever it was. +You will have to do it. While Jack was left in brute ignorance, it was +possible to satisfy him with brute comforts and control him with brute +discipline; but teach Jack the alphabet, and he becomes as shrewd as his +master. He begins to consider what he is worth, and to readjust the +proportion between his work and his wages--to reflect that the larger +share of the profit is, perhaps, due to himself, seeing that he reaps by +his own toil and sweat, and his master reaps by the toil and sweat of a +score." + +Mr. Chiverton had manifested signs of impatience and irritability during +Mr. Forbes's address, and he now said, with his peculiar snarl for which +he was famous, "Once upon a time there was a great redistribution of +land in Egypt, and the fifth part of the increase was given to Pharaoh, +and the other four parts were left to be food to the sowers. If +Providence would graciously send us a universal famine, we might all +begin again on a new foundation." + +"Oh, we cannot wait for that--we must do something meanwhile," said Sir +Edward Lucas, understanding him literally. "I expect we shall have to +manage our land less exclusively with an eye to our own revenue from +it." + +Mr. Chiverton testily interrupted the young man's words of wisdom: "The +fact is, Jack wants to be master himself. Strikes in the manufacturing +towns are not unnatural--we know how those mercantile people grind their +hands--but since it has come to strikes amongst colliers and miners, I +tremble at the prospect for the country. The spirit of insubordination +will spread and spread until the very plough-boys in the field are +infected." + +"A good thing, too, and the sooner the better," said Mr. Oliver Smith. + +"No, no!" cried Mr. Fairfax, but Mr. Forbes said that was what they were +coming to. Sir Edward Lucas listened hard. He was fresh from Oxford, +where boating and athletic exercises had been his chief study. His +father was lately dead, and the administration of a great estate had +devolved upon him. His desire was to do his duty by it, and he had to +learn how, that prospect not having been prepared for in his education, +further than by initiation in the field-sports followed by gentlemen. + +Mr. Chiverton turned on Mr. Oliver Smith with his snarl: "Your conduct +as a landowner being above reproach, you can afford to look on with +complacency while the rest of the world are being set by the ears." + +Mr. Oliver Smith had very little land, but as all there knew what he had +as well as he knew himself, he did not wince. He rejoined: "As a class, +we have had a long opportunity for winning the confidence of the +peasants; some of us have used it--others of us have neglected it and +abused it. If the people these last have held lordship over revolt and +transfer their allegiance to other masters, to demagogues hired in the +streets, who shall blame them?" + +"Suppose we all rise above reproach: I mean to try," said Sir Edward +Lucas with an eagerness of interest that showed his good-will. "Then if +my people can find a better master, let them go." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh turned to the young man: "It depends upon yourself +whether they shall find a better master or not. Resolve that they shall +not. Consider your duty to the land and those upon it as the vocation of +your life, and you will run a worthy career." + +Sir Edward was at once gratified and silenced. Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +reputation was greater yet than his achievement, but a man's +possibilities impress the young and enthusiastic even more than his +successes accomplished. + +"You hold subversive views, Burleigh--views to which the public mind is +not educated up, nor will be in this generation," said Mr. Chiverton. +"The old order of things will last my time." + +"Changes move fast now-a-days," said Mr. Fairfax. "I should like to see +a constitutional remedy provided for the Giffords of the gentry before I +depart. We are too near neighbors to be friends, and Morte adjoins my +property." + +"Gifford was brought up in a bad school--a vaporing fellow, not true to +any of his obligations," said Mr. Oliver Smith. + +"It is Blagg, his agent, who is responsible," began Mr. Chiverton. + +Mr. Oliver Smith interrupted contemptuously: "When a landlord permits an +agent to represent him without supervision, and refuses to look into the +reiterated complaints of his tenants, he gives us leave to suppose that +his agent does him acceptable service." + +"I have remonstrated with him myself, but he is cynically indifferent to +public opinion," said Mr. Forbes. + +"The public opinion that condemns a man and dines with him is not of +much account," said Mr. Oliver Smith, with a glance at Mr. Chiverton, +the obnoxious Gifford's very good friend. + +"Would you have him cut?" demanded Mr. Chiverton. "I grant you that it +is a necessary precaution to have his words in black and white if he is +to be bound by them--" + +"You could not well say worse of a gentleman than that, Chiverton--eh?" +suggested Mr. Fairfax. + +There was a minute's silence, and then Mr. Forbes spoke: "I should like +our legal appointments to include advocates of the poor, men of +integrity whose business it would be to watch over the rights and listen +to the grievances of those classes who live by laborious work and are +helpless to resist powerful wrong. Old truth bears repeating: these are +the classes who maintain the state of the world--the laborer that holds +the plough and whose talk is of bullocks, the carpenter, the smith, and +the potter. All these trust to their hands, and are wise in their work, +and when oppression comes they must seek to some one of leisure for +justice. It is a pitiful thing to hear a poor man plead, 'Sir, what can +I do?' when his heart burns with a sense of intolerable wrong, and to +feel that the best advice you can give him is that he should bear it +patiently." + +"I call that too sentimental on your part, Forbes," remonstrated Mr. +Chiverton. "The laborers are quiet yet, and guidable as their own oxen, +but look at the trades--striking everywhere. Surely your smiths and +carpenters are proving themselves strong enough to protect their own +interests." + +"Yes, by the combination that we should all deprecate amongst our +laborers--only by that. Therefore the wise will be warned in time, for +such example is contagious. Many of our people have lain so long in +discontent that bitter distrust has come of it, and they are ready to +abandon their natural leaders for any leader who promises them more +wages and less toil. If the laborers strike, Smith's and Fairfax's will +probably stick to their furrows, and Gifford's will turn upon him--yours +too, Chiverton, perhaps." Mr. Forbes was very bold. + +"God forbid that we should come to that!" exclaimed Mr. Fairfax +devoutly. "We have all something to mend in our ways. Our view of the +responsibility that goes with the possession of land has been too +narrow. If we could put ourselves in the laborer's place!" + +"I shall mend nothing: no John Hodge shall dictate to me," cried Mr. +Chiverton in a sneering fury. "A man has a right to do what he likes +with his own, I presume?" + +"No, he has not; and especially not when he calls a great territory in +land his own," said Mr. Forbes. "That is the false principle out of +which the bad practice of some of you arises. A few have never been +guided by it--they have acted on the ancient law that the land is the +Lord's, and the profit of the land for all--and many more begin to +acknowledge that it is a false principle by which it is not safe to be +guided any longer. Pushed as far as it will go, the result is Gifford." + +"And myself," added Mr. Chiverton in a quieter voice as he rose from his +chair. Mr. Forbes looked at him. The old man made no sign of being +affronted, and they went together into the drawing-room, where he +introduced the clergyman to his wife, saying, "Here, Ada, is a +gentleman who will back you in teaching me my duty to my neighbor;" and +then he went over to Lady Angleby. + +"You are on the side of the poor man, then, Mrs. Chiverton?" said Mr. +Forbes pleasantly. "It is certainly a legitimate sphere of female +influence in country neighborhoods." + +The stately bride drew her splendid dress aside to make room for him on +the ottoman, and replied in a measured voice, "I am. I tell Mr. +Chiverton that he does not satisfy the reasonable expectations of his +people. I hope to persuade him to a more liberal policy of management on +his immense estates; his revenue from them is very large. It distresses +me to be surrounded by a discontented tenantry, as it would do to be +waited on by discontented servants. A bad cottage is an eyesore on a +rich man's land, and I shall not rest until I get all Chiver-Chase +cleared of bad cottages and picturesquely inconvenient old farmsteads. +The people appeal to me already." + +Bessie Fairfax had come up while her old school-fellow was gratifying +Mr. Forbes's ears with her admirable sentiments. She could not forbear a +smile at the candid assertion of power they implied, and as Mr. Forbes +smiled too with a twinkle of amused surprise, Bessie said sportively, +"And if Mr. Chiverton is rebellious and won't take them away, then what +shall you do?" + +Mrs. Chiverton was dumb; perhaps this probability had not occurred to +her ruling mind. Mr. Forbes begged to know what Miss Fairfax herself +would do under such circumstances. Bessie considered a minute with her +pretty chin in the air, and then said, "I would not wear my diamonds. +Oh, I would find out a way to bring him to reason!" + +A delicate color suffused Mrs. Chiverton's face, and she looked proudly +at Bessie, standing in her bright freedom before her. Bessie caught her +breath; she saw that she had given pain, and was sorry: "You don't care +for my nonsense--you remember me at school," she whispered, and laid her +hand impulsively on the slim folded hands of the young married lady. + +"I remember that you found something to laugh at in almost +everything--it is your way," said Mrs. Chiverton coldly, and as her +flush subsided she appeared paler than before. She was so evidently hurt +by something understood or imagined in Bessie's innocent raillery that +Bessie, abashed herself, drew back her hand, and as Mr. Forbes began to +speak with becoming seriousness she took the opportunity of gliding away +to join Miss Burleigh in the glazed verandah. + +It was a dark, warm night, but the moon that was rising above the trees +gradually illumined it, and made the garden mysterious with masses of +shadow, black against the silver light. In the distance rose the ghostly +towers of the cathedral. Miss Burleigh feared that the grass was too wet +for them to walk upon it, but they paced the verandah until Mr. Cecil +Burleigh found them and the rising hum of conversation in the +drawing-room announced the appearance of the other gentlemen. Miss +Burleigh then went back to the company, and there was an opportunity for +kind words and soft whisperings between the two who were left, if either +had been thereto inclined; but Bessie's frank, girlish good-humor made +lovers' pretences impossible, and while Mr. Cecil Burleigh felt every +hour that he liked her better, he felt it more difficult to imply it in +his behavior. Bessie, on her side, fully possessed with the idea that +she knew the lady of his love, was fast throwing off all sense of +embarrassment in his kindness to herself; while onlookers, predisposed +to believe what they wished, interpreted her growing ease as an +infallible sign that his progress with her was both swift and sure. + +They were still at the glass door of the verandah when Mrs. Chiverton +sought Bessie to bid her good-night. She seemed to have forgotten her +recent offence, and said, "You will come and see me, Miss Fairfax, will +you not? We ought to be friends here." + +"Oh yes," cried Bessie, who, when compunction touched her, was ready to +make liberal amends, "I shall be very glad." + +Mrs. Chiverton went away satisfied. The other guests not staying in the +house soon followed, and when all were gone there was some discussion of +the bride amongst those who were left. They were of one consent that she +was very handsome and that her jewels were most magnificent. + +"But no one envies her, I hope?" said Lady Angleby. + +"You do not admire her motive for the marriage? Perhaps you do not +believe in it?" said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. + +"I quite believe that she does, but I do not commend her example for +imitation." + +Miss Burleigh, lingering a few minutes in Miss Fairfax's room when they +went up stairs, delivered her mind on the matter. "My poor ambition +flies low," she said. "I could be content to give love for love, and do +my duty in the humblest station God might call me to, but not for any +sake could I go into the house of bondage where no love is. Poor Mrs. +Chiverton!" + +Bessie made a very unsentimental reply: "Poor Mrs. Chiverton, indeed! +Oh, but she does not want our pity! That old man is a slave to her, just +as the girls were at school. She adores power, and if she is allowed to +help and patronize people, she will be perfectly happy in her way. +Everybody does not care, first and last, to love and be loved. I have +been so long away from everybody who loves me that I am learning to do +without it." + +"Oh, my dear, don't fancy that," said Miss Burleigh, and she stroked +Bessie's face and kissed her. "Some of us here are longing to love you +quite as tenderly as any friends you have in the Forest." And then she +bade her good-night and left her to her ruminations. + +Miss Burleigh's kiss brought a blush to Bessie's face that was slow to +fade even though she was alone. She sat thinking, her hands clasped, her +eyes dreamily fixed on the flame of the candle. Some incidents on board +the Foam recurred to her mind, and the blush burnt more hotly. Then, +with a sigh, she said to herself, "It is pleasant here, everybody is +good to me, but I wish I could wake up at Beechhurst to-morrow morning, +and have a ride with my father, and mend socks with my mother in the +afternoon. There one felt _safe_." + +There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Betts entered, complacent with +the flattering things that had been said of her young lady in the +steward's room, and willing to repeat them on the smallest +encouragement: "Miss Jocund is really cleverer than could have been +supposed, miss. Your white silk fits most beautiful," she began. + +"I was not conscious of being newly dressed to-night, so her work must +be successful," replied Bessie, untying the black velvet round her fair +throat. Mrs. Betts took occasion to suggest that a few more ornaments +would not be amiss. "I don't care for ornaments--I am fond of my old +cross," Bessie said, laying it in the rosy palm of her hand. Then +looking up with a melancholy, reflective smile, she said, "All the +shining stones in the world would not tempt me to sacrifice my liberty." +Mrs. Chiverton was in her thoughts, and Lady Latimer. + +Mrs. Betts had a shrewd discernment, and she was beginning to understand +her young lady's character, and to respect it. She had herself a vein of +feeling deeper than the surface; she had seen those she loved suffer, +and she spoke in reply to Miss Fairfax with heartfelt solemnity: "It is +a true thing, miss, and nobody has better cause than me to know it, that +happiness does not belong to rank and riches. It belongs nowhere for +certain, but them that are good have most of it. For let the course of +their lives run ever so contrary, they have a peace within, given by One +above, that the proud and craving never have. Mr. Frederick's wife--she +bears the curse that has been in her family for generations, but she had +a pious bringing-up, and, poor lady! though her wits forsook her, her +best comfort never did." + +"Some day, Mrs. Betts, I shall ask you to tell me her story," Bessie +said. + +"There is not much to tell, miss. She was the second Miss Lovel (her +sister and she were co-heiresses)--not to say a beauty, but a sweet +young lady, and there was a true attachment between her and Mr. +Frederick. It was in this very house they met--in this very house he +slept after that ball where he asked her to marry him. It is not telling +secrets to tell how happy she was. Your grandfather, the old squire, +would have been better pleased had it been some other lady, because of +what was in the blood, but he did not offer to stop it, and they lived +at Abbotsmead after they were married. The house was all new done-up to +welcome her; that octagon parlor was her design. She brought Mr. +Frederick a great fortune, and they loved one another dearly, but it did +not last long. She had a baby, and lost it, and was never quite herself +after. Poor thing! poor thing!" + +"And my uncle Laurence's wife," said Bessie, not to dwell on that +tragedy of which she knew the issue. + +"Oh! Mr. Laurence's wife!" said Mrs. Betts in a quite changed tone. "I +never pitied a gentleman more. Folks who don't know ladies fancy they +speak and behave pretty always, but that lady would grind her teeth in +her rages, and make us fly before her--him too. She would throw whatever +was in her reach. She was a deal madder and more dangerous in her fits +of passion than poor Mrs. Frederick: she, poor dear! had a delusion that +she was quite destitute and dependent on charity, and when she could get +out she would go to the cottages and beg a bit of bread. A curious +delusion, miss, but it did not distress her, for she called herself one +of God's poor, and was persuaded He would take care of her. But it was +very distressing to those she belonged to. Twice she was lost. She +wandered away so far once that it was a month and over before we got her +back. She was found in Edinburgh. After that Mr. Frederick consented to +her being taken care of: he never would before." + +"Oh, Mrs. Betts, don't tell me any more, or it will haunt me." + +"Life's a sorrowful tale, miss, at best, unless we have love here and a +hope beyond." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +_A MORNING AT BRENTWOOD_. + + +Brentwood was a comfortable house to stay in for visitors who never +wanted a moment's repose. Lady Angleby lived in the midst of her +guests--must have their interest, their sympathy in all her occupations, +and she was never without a press of work and correspondence. Bessie +Fairfax by noon next day felt herself weary without having done anything +but listen with folded hands to tedious dissertations on matters +political and social that had no interest for her. Since ten o'clock Mr. +Cecil Burleigh and Mr. Fairfax had withdrawn themselves, and were gone +into Norminster, and Miss Burleigh sat, a patient victim, with two dark +hollows under her eyes--bearing up with a smile while ready to sink +with fatigue. The gentlemen did not return to luncheon, but a caller +dropped in--a clergyman, Mr. Jones; and Miss Burleigh took the +opportunity of his entrance to vanish, making a sign to Miss Fairfax to +come too. They went into the garden, where they were met by a vivacious, +pretty old lady, Miss Hague, a former governess of Miss Burleigh, who +now acted as assistant secretary to Lady Angleby. + +"Your enemy, Mr. Jones, is in the drawing-room with my aunt," Miss +Burleigh told her. "Quite by chance--he was not asked." + +"Oh, let him stay. It is a study to see him amble about her ladyship +with the airs and graces of a favorite, and then to witness his +condescension to inferior persons like me," said Miss Hague. "I'll go to +your room, Mary, and take off my bonnet." + +"Do, dear. We have only just escaped into the fresh air, and are making +the most of our liberty." + +Miss Hague lodged within a stone's throw of Brentwood, and Lady Angleby +was good in bidding her go to luncheon whenever she felt disposed. She +was disposed as seldom as courtesy allowed, for, though very poor, she +was a gentlewoman of independent spirit, and her ladyship sometimes +forgot it. She was engaged seeking some report amongst her papers when +Miss Hague entered, but she gave her a nod of welcome. Mr. Jones said, +"Ah, Miss Hague," with superior affability, and luncheon was announced. + +Lady Angleby had to give and hear opinions on a variety of subjects +while they were at table. Middle-class female education Mr. Jones had +not gone into. He listened and was instructed, and supposed that it +might easily be made better; nevertheless, he had observed that the best +taught amongst his candidates for confirmation came from the shopkeeping +class, where the parents still gave their children religious lessons at +home. Then ladies of refined habits and delicate feelings as mistresses +of elementary schools--that was a new idea to him. A certain robustness +seemed, perhaps, more desirable; teaching a crowd of imperfectly washed +little boys and girls was not fancy-work; also he believed that +essential propriety existed to the full as much amongst the young women +now engaged as amongst young ladies. If the object was to create a class +of rural school-mistresses who would take social rank with the curate, +he thought it a mistake; a school-mistress ought not to be above +drinking her cup of tea in a tidy cottage with the parents of her +pupils: he should prefer a capable young woman in a clean holland apron +with pockets, and no gloves, to any poor young lady of genteel tastes +who would expect to associate on equal terms with his wife and +daughters. Then, cookery for the poor. Here Mr. Jones fell inadvertently +into a trap. He said that the chief want amongst the poor was something +to cook: there was very little spending in twelve shillings a week, or +even in fifteen and eighteen, with a family to house, clothe, and feed. +Lady Angleby held a quite opposite view. She said that a helpless +thriftlessness was at the root of the matter. She had printed and +largely distributed a little book of receipts, for which many people had +thanked her. Mr. Jones knew the little book, and had heard his wife say +that Lady Angleby's receipt for stewed rabbits was well enough, but that +her receipt for hares stewed with onions was hares spoilt; and where +were poor people to get hares unless they went out poaching? + +"I assure your ladyship that agrimony tea is still drunk amongst our +widows, and an ounce of shop-tea is kept for home-coming sons and +daughters grown proud in service. They gather the herb in the autumn, +and dry it in bunches for the winter's use. And many is the laborer who +lets his children swallow the lion's share of his Sunday bit of meat +because the wife says it makes them strong, and children have not the +sense not to want all they see. Any economical reform amongst the +extravagant classes that would leave more and better food within reach +of the hard-working classes would be highly beneficial to both. +Sometimes I wish we could return to that sumptuary law of Queen +Elizabeth which commanded the rich to eat fish and fast from flesh-meat +certain days of the week." Here Mr. Jones too abruptly paused. Lady +Angleby had grown exceedingly red in the face; Bessie Fairfax had grown +rosy too, with suppressed reflections on the prize-stature to which her +hostess had attained in sixty years of high feeding. Queen Elizabeth's +pious fast might have been kept by her with much advantage to her +figure. + +Poor Mr. Jones had confused himself as well as Lady Angleby, but the +return to the drawing-room created an opportune diversion. He took up an +illustrated paper with a scene from a new play, and after studying it +for a few minutes began to denounce the amusements of the gay world in +the tone of a man who has known nothing of them, but has let his +imagination run into very queer illusions. This passed harmless. Nobody +was concerned to defend the actor's vocation where nobody followed it; +but Mr. Jones was next so ill-advised as to turn to Miss Hague, and say +with a supercilious air that since they last met he had been trying to +read a novel, which he mentioned by name--a masterpiece of modern +fiction--and really he could not see the good of such works. Miss Hague +and he had disagreed on this subject before. She was an inveterate +novel-reader, and claimed kindred with a star of chief magnitude in the +profession, and to speak lightly of light literature in her presence +always brought her out warmly and vigorously in defence and praise of +it. + +"No good in such works, Mr. Jones!" cried she. "My hair is gray, and +this is a solemn fact: for the conduct of life I have found far more +counsel and comfort in novels than in sermons, in week-day books than in +Sunday preachers!" + +There was a startled silence. Miss Burleigh extended a gentle hand to +stop the impetuous old lady, but the words were spoken, and she could +only intervene as moderator: "Novels show us ourselves at a distance, as +it were. I think they are good both for instruction and reproof. The +best of them are but the Scripture parables in modern masquerade. Here +is one--the Prodigal Son of the nineteenth century, going out into the +world, wasting his substance with riotous living, suffering, repenting, +returning, and rejoiced over." + +"Our Lord made people think: I am not aware that novels make people +think," said Mr. Jones with cool contempt. + +"Apply your mind to the study of either of these books--Mr. Thackeray's +or George Eliot's--and you will not find all its powers too much for +their appreciation," said Miss Hague. + +Mr. Jones made a slight grimace: "Pray excuse the comparison, Miss +Hague, but you remind me of a groom of mine whom I sent up to the Great +Exhibition. When he came home again all he had to say was, 'Oh, sir, the +saddlery was beautiful!'" + +"Nothing like leather!" laughed Lady Angleby. + +"He showed his wit--he spoke of what he understood," said Miss Hague. +"You undertake to despise light literature, of which avowedly you know +nothing. Tell me: of the little books and tracts that you circulate, +which are the most popular?" + +"The tales and stories; they are thumbed and blackened when the serious +pages are left unread," Mr. Jones admitted. + +"It is the same with the higher-class periodicals that come to us from +D'Oyley's library," said Lady Angleby, pointing to the brown, buff, +orange, green, and purple magazines that furnished her round-table. "The +novels are well read, so are the social essays and the bits of gossiping +biography; but dry chapters of exploration, science, discovery, and +politics are tasted, and no more: the first page or two may be opened, +and the rest as often as not are uncut. And as they come to Brentwood, +so, but for myself, they would go away. The young people prefer the +stories, and with rare exceptions it is the same with their elders. The +fact is worth considering. A puff of secular air, to blow away the vapor +of sanctity in which the clergy envelop themselves, might be salutary at +intervals. All fresh air is a tonic." + +Mr. Jones repeated his slight grimace, and said, "Will Miss Hague be so +kind as to tell me what a sermon ought to be? I will sit at her feet +with all humility." + +"With arrogant humility!--with the pride that apes humility," cried Miss +Hague with cheerful irreverence. "I don't pretend to teach you +sermon-making: I only tell you that, such as sermons mostly are, +precious little help or comfort can be derived from them." + +Mr. Jones again made his characteristic grimace, expressive of the +contempt for secular opinion with which he was morally so well +cushioned, but he had a kind heart and refrained from crushing his poor +old opponent with too severe a rejoinder. He granted that some novels +might be harmless, and such as he would not object to see in the hands +of his daughters; but as a general rule he had a prejudice against +fiction; and as for theatres, he would have them all shut up, for he +was convinced that thousands of young men and women might date their +ruin from their first visit to a theatre: he could tell them many +anecdotes in support of his assertions. Fortunately, it was three +o'clock. The butler brought in letters by the afternoon post, and the +anecdotes had to be deferred to a more convenient season. The clergyman +took his leave. + +Lady Angleby glanced through her sheaf of correspondence, and singled +out one letter. "From dear Lady Latimer," she said, and tore it open. +But as she read her countenance became exceedingly irate, and at the end +she tossed it over to Miss Hague: "There is the answer to your +application." The old lady did not raise her eyes immediately after its +perusal, and Miss Burleigh took it kindly out of her hand, saying, "Let +me see." Then Lady Angleby broke out: "I do not want anybody to teach me +what is my duty, I hope." + +Miss Hague now looked up, and Bessie Fairfax's kind heart ached to see +her bright eyes glittering as she faltered, "I think it is a very kind +letter. I wish more people were of Lady Latimer's opinion. I do not wish +to enter the Governesses' Asylum: it would take me quite away from all +the places and people I am fond of. I might never see any of you again." + +"How often must I tell you that it is not necessary you should go into +the asylum? You may be elected to one of the out-pensions if we can +collect votes enough. As for Lady Latimer reserving her vote for really +friendless persons, it is like her affectation of superior virtue." Lady +Angleby spoke and looked as if she were highly incensed. + +Miss Hague was trembling all over, and begging that nothing more might +be said on the subject. + +"But there is no time to lose," said her patroness, still more angrily. +"If you do not press on with your applications, you will be too late: +everybody will be engaged for the election in November. The voting-list +is on my writing-table--the names I know are marked. Go on with the +letters in order, and I will sign them when I return from my drive." + +Miss Fairfax's face was so pitiful and inquisitive that the substance of +Lady Latimer's letter was repeated to her. It was to the effect that +Miss Hague's former pupils were of great and wealthy condition for the +most part, and that they ought not to let her appeal to public charity, +but to subscribe a sufficient pension for her amongst themselves; and +out of the respect in which she herself held her, Lady Latimer offered +five pounds annually towards it. "And I think that is right," said +Bessie warmly. "If you were my old governess, Miss Hague, I should be +only too glad to subscribe." + +"Well, my dear young lady, I was your father's governess and your +uncles' until they went to a preparatory school for Eton: from +Frederick's being four years old to Geoffry's being ten, I lived at +Abbotsmead," said Miss Hague. "And here is another of my boys," she +added as the door opened and Sir Edward Lucas was announced. + +"Then I will do what my father would have done had he been alive," said +Bessie. "Perhaps my uncle Laurence will too." + +"What were you saying of me, dear Hoddydoddy?" asked Sir Edward, turning +to the old lady when he had paid his devoirs to the rest. + +The matter being explained to him, he was eager to contribute his +fraction. "Then leave the final arrangement to me," said Lady Angleby. +"I will settle what is to be done. You need not write any more of those +letters, Miss Hague, and I trust these enthusiastic young people will +not tire of what they have undertaken. It is right, but if everybody did +what is right on such occasions there would be little use for benevolent +institutions. Sir Edward, we were going to drive into Norminster: will +you take a seat in my carriage?" + +Sir Edward would be delighted; and Miss Hague, released from her +ladyship's desk, went home happy, and in the midst of doubts and fears +lest she had hurt the feelings of Mr. Jones wept the soft tears of +grateful old age that meets with unexpected kindness. The resolute +expression of her sentiments by Miss Fairfax had inspired her with +confidence, and she longed to see that young lady again. In the letter +of thanks she wrote to Lady Latimer she did not fail to mention how her +judgment and example had been supported by that young disciple; and Lady +Latimer, revolving the news with pleasure, began to think of paying a +visit to Woldshire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +_SOME DOUBTS AND FEARS_. + + +Sir Edward Lucas was a gentleman for whom Lady Angleby had a +considerable degree of favor: it was a pity he was so young, otherwise +he might have done for Mary. Poor Mary! Mr. Forbes and she had a long, +obstinate kindness for each other, but Lady Angleby stood in the way: +Mr. Forbes did not satisfy any of her requirements. Besides, if she gave +Mary up, who was to live with her at Brentwood? Therefore Mr. Forbes and +Miss Burleigh, after a six years' engagement, still played at patience. +She did not drive into Norminster that afternoon. "Mr. Fairfax and Cecil +will be glad of a seat back," said she, and stood excused. + +Sir Edward Lucas had more pleasure in facing his contemporary: Miss +Fairfax he regarded as his contemporary. He was smitten with a lively +admiration for her, and in course of the drive he sought her advice on +important matters. Lady Angleby began to instruct him on what he ought +to do for the improvement of his fine house at Longdown, but he wanted +to talk rather of a new interest--the mineral wealth still waiting +development on his property at Hippesley Moor. + +"Now, what should you do, Miss Fairfax, supposing you had to earn your +bread by a labor always horribly disagreeable and never unattended by +danger?" he asked with great eagerness. + +Bessie had not a doubt of what she should do: "I should work as hard as +ever I could for the shortest possible time that would keep me in +bread." + +"Just so," said Sir Edward rubbing his hands. "So would I. Now, will +that principle work amongst colliers? I am going to open a pit at +Hippesley Moor, where the coal is of excellent quality. It is a fresh +start, and I shall try to carry out your principle, Miss Fairfax; I am +convinced that it is excellent and Christian." + +_Christian!_ Bessie's blue eyes widened with laughing alarm. "Oh, had +you not better consult somebody of greater experience?" cried she. + +Lady Angleby approved her modesty, and with smiling indulgence +remarked, "I should think so, indeed!" + +"No, no: experience is always for sticking to grooves," said Sir Edward. +"I like Miss Fairfax's idea. It is shrewd--it goes to the root of the +difficulty. We must get it out in detail. Now, if in three days' hard +work the collier can earn the week's wages of an agricultural laborer +and more--and he can--we have touched the reason why he takes so many +play-days. It would be a very sharp spur of necessity indeed that would +drive me into a coal-pit at all; and nothing would keep me there one +hour after necessity was satisfied. I shall take into consideration the +instinct of our common humanity that craves for some sweetness in life, +and as far as I am able it shall be gratified. Now, the other three +days: what shall be their occupation? Idleness will not do." + +"No, I should choose to have a garden and work in the sun," said Bessie, +catching some of his spirit. + +"And I should choose to tend some sort of live-stock. In the way of +minor industries I am convinced that a great deal may be put in their +way only by taking thought. I shall lay parcels of land together for +spade cultivation--the men will have a market at their own doors; then +poultry farms--" + +"Not forgetting the cock-pit for Sunday amusement," interrupted Lady +Angleby sarcastically. "You are too Utopian, Sir Edward. Your colony +will be a dismal failure and disappointment if you conduct it on such a +sentimental plan." + +Sir Edward colored. He had a love of approbation, and her ladyship was +an authority. He sought to propitiate her better opinion, and resumed: +"There shall be no inexorable rule. A man may work his six days in the +pit if it be his good-will, but he shall have the chance of a decent +existence above ground if he refuse to live in darkness and peril more +than three or four. Schools and institutes are very good things in their +place, and I shall not neglect to provide them, but I do not expect that +more than a slender minority of my colliers will ever trouble the +reading-room much. Let them feed pigs and grow roses." + +"They will soon not know what they want. The common people grow more +exacting every day--even our servants. You will have some fine stories +of trouble and vexation to tell us before long." + +Sir Edward looked discouraged, and Bessie Fairfax, with her impulsive +kind heart, exclaimed, "No, no! In all labor there is profit, and if you +work at doing your best for those who depend on your land, you will not +be disappointed. Men are not all ungrateful." + +Sir Edward certainly was not. He thanked Miss Fairfax energetically, and +just then the carriage stopped at the "George." Mr. Fairfax and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh came out in the most cheerful good-humor, and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh began to tell Bessie that she did not know how much she had +done for him by securing Buller's vote; it had drawn others after it. +Bessie was delighted, and was not withheld by any foolish shyness from +proclaiming that her mind was set on his winning his election. + +"You ought to take these two young people into your counsels, Cecil; +they have some wonderful devices for the promotion of contentment +amongst coal-miners," said Lady Angleby. Mr. Fairfax glanced in his +granddaughter's innocent, rosy face, and shook hands with Sir Edward as +he got out of the carriage. Mr. Cecil Burleigh said that wisdom was not +the monopoly of age, and then he inquired where they were going. + +They were going to call at the manor on Lady Eden, and to wind up with a +visit to Mr. Laurence Fairfax in the Minster Court. Mr. Fairfax said he +would meet them there, and the same said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. Sir Edward +Lucas stood halting on the inn-steps, wistfully hoping for a bidding to +come too. Lady Angleby was even kinder than his hopes; she asked if he +had any engagement for the evening, and when he answered in the negative +she invited him to come and dine at Brentwood again. He accepted with +joy unfeigned. + +When the ladies reached Minster Court only Mr. Cecil Burleigh had +arrived there. Lady Angleby was impatient to hear some private details +of the canvass, and took her nephew aside to talk of it. Mr. Laurence +Fairfax began to ask Bessie how long she was to stay at Brentwood. +"Until Monday," Bessie said; and her eyes roved unconsciously to the +cupboard under the bookcase where the toys lived, but it was fast shut +and locked, and gave no sign of its hid treasures. Her uncle's eyes +followed hers, and with a significant smile he said, if she pleased, he +would request her grandfather to leave her with him for a few days, +adding that he would find her some young companions. Bessie professed +that she would like it very much, and when Mr. Fairfax came in the +request was preferred and cordially granted. The squire was in high +good-humor with his granddaughter and all the world just now. + +Bessie went away from Minster Court with jubilant anticipations of what +might happen during the proposed visit to her uncle's house. One thing +she felt sure of: she would become better acquainted with that darling +cherub of a boy, and the vision she made of it shed quite a glow on the +prospect. She told Miss Burleigh when she returned to Brentwood that she +was not going out of reach on Monday; she was going to stay a few days +with her uncle Laurence in Minster Court. + +"Cecil will be so glad!" said his devoted sister. + +"There are no more Bullers to conquer, are there?" Bessie asked, turning +her face aside. + +"I hope not. Oh no! Cecil begins to be tolerably sure of his election, +and he will have you to thank for it. Mr. John Short blesses you every +hour of the day." + +Bessie laughed lightly. "I did good unconsciously, and blush to find it +fame," said she. + +A fear that her brother's success with Miss Fairfax might be doubtful, +though his election was sure, flashed at that instant into Miss +Burleigh's mind. Bessie's manner was not less charming, but it was much +more intrepid, and at intervals there was a strain of fun in it--of +mischief and mockery. Was it the subacid flavor of girlish caprice, +which might very well subsist in combination with her sweetness, or was +it sheer insensibility? Time would show, but Miss Burleigh retained a +lurking sense of uneasiness akin to that she had experienced when she +detected in Miss Fairfax, at their first meeting, an inclination to +laugh at her aunt--an uneasiness difficult to conceal and dangerous to +confess. Not for the world would she, at this stage of the affair, have +revealed her anxiety to her brother, who held the even tenor of his +way, whatever he felt--never obtrusive and never negligent. He treated +Bessie like the girl of sense she was, with courtesy, but without +compliments or any idle banter; and Bessie certainly began to enjoy his +society. He improved on acquaintance, and made the hours pass much more +pleasantly at Brentwood when he was there than they passed in his +absence. This was promising. The evening's dinner-party would have been +undeniably heavy without the leaven of his wit, for Mr. Logger, that +well-known political writer, had arrived from London in the course of +the afternoon, and Lady Angleby and he discoursed with so much solemn +allusion and innuendo on the affairs of the nation that it was like +listening surreptitiously at a cabinet council. Sir Edward Lucas was +quite silent and oppressed. + +Coming into the morning-room after breakfast on the following day armed +with a roll of papers, Mr. Logger announced, "I met our excellent friend +Lady Latimer at Summerhay last week; she is immensely interested in the +education movement." + +Mr. Fairfax and Mr. Cecil Burleigh instantly discovered that it was time +they were gone into the town, and with one compunctious glance at +Bessie, of which she did not yet know the meaning, they vanished. The +roll in Mr. Logger's hand was an article in manuscript on that education +movement in which he had stated that his friend Lady Latimer was so +immensely interested; and he had the cruelty to propose to read it to +the ladies here. He did read it, his hostess listening with gratified +approval and keeping a controlling eye on Miss Fairfax, who, when she +saw what impended, would have escaped had she been able. Miss Burleigh +bore it as she bore everything--with smiling resignation--but she +enjoyed the vivacity of Bessie's declaration afterward that the lecture +was unpardonable. + +"What a shockingly vain old gentleman! Could we not have waited to read +his article in print?" said she. + +"Probably it will never be in print. He toadies my aunt, who likes to be +credited with a literary taste, but Cecil says people laugh at him; he +is not of any weight, either literary or political, though he has great +pretensions. We shall have him for a week at least, and I have no doubt +he has brought manuscript to last the whole time." + +Bessie was so uncomfortably candid as to cry out that she was glad, +then, her visit would soon be over; and then she tried to extenuate her +plain-speaking, not very skilfully. + +Miss Burleigh accepted her plea with a gentleness that reproached her: +"We hoped that you would be happy at Brentwood with Cecil here; his +company is generally supposed to make any place delightful. He is +exceedingly dear to us all; no one knows how good he is until they have +lived with him a long while." + +"Oh, I am sure he is good; I like him much better now than I did at +first; but if he runs away to Norminster and leaves us a helpless prey +to Mr. Logger, that is not delightful," rejoined Bessie winsomely. + +Miss Burleigh kissed and forgave her, acknowledged that it was the +reverse of delightful, and conveyed an intimation to her brother by +which he profited. Mr. Logger favored the ladies with another reading on +Sunday afternoon--an essay on sermons, and twice as long as one. Mr. +Jones should have been there: this essay was much heavier artillery than +Miss Hague's little paper-winged arrows. In the middle of it, just at +the moment when endurance became agony and release bliss, Mr. Cecil +Burleigh entered and invited Miss Fairfax to walk into the town to +minster prayers, and Bessie went so gladly that his sister was quite +consoled in being left to hear Mr. Logger to an end. + +The two were about to ascend the minster steps when they espied Mr. +Fairfax in the distance, and turned to meet him. He had been lunching +with his son. At the first glance Bessie knew that her grandfather had +suffered an overwhelming surprise since he went out in the morning. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh also perceived that something was amiss, and not to +distress his friend by inopportune remark, he said where he and Miss +Fairfax were going. + +"Go--go, by all means," said the squire. "Perhaps you may overtake me as +you return: I shall walk slowly, and I want a word with Short as I pass +his house." With this he went on, and the young people entered the +minster, thinking but not speaking of what they could not but +observe--his manifest bewilderment and pre-occupation. + +On the road home they did not, however, overtake Mr. Fairfax. He reached +Brentwood before them, and was closeted with Lady Angleby for some +considerable time previous to dinner. Her ladyship was not agreeable +without effort that evening, and there was indeed a perceptible cloud +over everybody but Mr. Logger. Whatever the secret, it had been +communicated to Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister, and it affected them +all more or less uncomfortably. Bessie guessed what had happened--that +her grandfather had seen his son Laurence's little playfellow, and that +there had been an important revelation. + +Bessie was right. Mr. Laurence Fairfax had Master Justus on his lap when +his father unexpectedly walked into his garden. There was a lady in blue +amongst the flowers who vanished; and the incompetent Sally, with +something in her arms, who also hastily retired, but not unseen, either +her or her burden. Master Justus held his ground with baby audacity, and +the old squire recognized a strong young shoot of the Fairfax stock. One +or two sharp exclamations and astounded queries elicited from Mr. +Laurence Fairfax that he had been five years married to the lady in +blue--a niece of Dr. Jocund--and that the bold little boy was his own, +and another in the nurse's arms. Mr. Fairfax did not refuse to sit at +meat with his son, though the chubby boy sat opposite, but he declined +all conversation on the subject beyond the bald fact, and expressed no +desire to be made acquainted with his newly-discovered daughter-in-law. +Indeed, at a hint of it he jerked out a peremptory negative, and left +the house without any more reference to the matter. Mr. Laurence Fairfax +feared that it would be long before his father would darken his doors +again, but it was a sensible relief to have got his secret told, and not +to have had any angry, unpardonable words about it. The squire said +little, but those who knew him knew perfectly that he might be silent +and all the more indignant. And undoubtedly he was indignant. Of his +three sons, Laurence had been always the one preferred; and this was his +usage of him, his confidence in him! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +_IN MINSTER COURT_. + + +Mr. Fairfax did not withdraw his consent to Elizabeth's staying in +Norminster with her uncle Laurence, and on Monday afternoon she and Mrs. +Betts were transferred from Brentwood to Minster Court. On the first +evening Mr. John Short dined there, but no one else. He made Miss +Fairfax happy by talking of the Forest, which he had revisited more than +once since the famous first occasion. After dinner the two gentlemen +remained together a long while, and Bessie amused herself alone in the +study. She cast many a look towards the toy-cupboard, and was strongly +tempted to peep, but did not; and in the morning her virtue had its +reward. It was a little after eleven o'clock when Burrage threw open the +door of the study where she was sitting with her uncle and announced +"The dear children, sir," in a matter-of-fact tone, as if they were +daily visitors. + +Bessie's back was to the door. She blushed and turned round with +brightened eyes, and there, behold! was that sweet little boy in a blue +poplin tunic, and a second little boy, a year smaller, in a white +embroidered frock and scarlet sash! The voice of the incompetent Sally +was heard in final exhortation, "Now, mind you be good, Master Justus!" +and Master Justus ran straight to the philosopher and saluted him +imperatively as "Dada!" which honorable title the other little boy +echoed in an imperfect lisp, with an eager desire to be taken up and +kissed. The desire was abundantly gratified, and then Mr. Laurence +Fairfax said, "This is Laury," and offered him to Bessie for a +repetition of the ceremonial. + +Bessie could not have told why, but her eyes filled as she took him into +her lap and took off his pretty hat to see his shining curly locks. +Master Justus was already at the cupboard dragging out the toys, and her +uncle stood and looked down at her with a pleased, benevolent face. "Of +course they are my cousins?" said Bessie simply, and quite as simply he +said "Yes." + +This was all the interrogatory. But games ensued in which Bessie was +brought to her knees and a seat on the carpet, and had the beautiful +propriety of her hair as sadly disarranged as in her gypsy childhood +amongst the rough Carnegie boys. Mrs. Betts put it tidy again before +luncheon, after the children were gone. Mrs. Betts had fathomed the +whole mystery, and would have been sympathetic about it had not her +young lady manifested an invincible gayety. Bessie hardly knew herself +for joy. She wanted very much to hear the romantic story that must +belong to those bonny children, but she felt that she must wait her +uncle's time to tell it. Happily for her peace, the story was not long +delayed: she learnt it that evening. + +This was the scene in Mr. Laurence Fairfax's study. He was seated at +ease in his great leathern chair, and perched on his knee, with one arm +round his neck and a ripe pomegranate cheek pressed against his ear, was +that winsome little lady in blue who was to be known henceforward as the +philosopher's wife: if she had not been so exquisitely pretty it would +have seemed a liberty to take with so much learning. Opposite to them, +and grim as a monumental effigy, sat Miss Jocund, and Bessie Fairfax, +with an amazed and amused countenance, listened and looked on. The +philosopher and his wife were laughing: they loved one another, they had +two dear little boys; what could the world give them or take away in +comparison with such joys? Their secret, long suspected in various +quarters, had transpired publicly since yesterday, and Lady Angleby had +that morning appealed haughtily to Miss Jocund in her own shop to know +how it had all happened. + +Miss Jocund now reported what she had answered: "I reckon, your +ladyship, that Dan Cupid is no more open in his tactics than ever he +was. All I have to tell is, that one evening, some six years ago, my +niece Rosy, who was a timid little thing, went for a walk by the river +with a school-fellow, and a hulking, rude boy gave them a fright. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax, by good luck, was in the way and brought them home, +and said to me that Rosy was much too pretty to be allowed to wander out +unprotected. When they met after he had a kind nod and a word for her, +and I've no doubt she had a shy blush for him. A philosopher is but a +man, and liable to fall in love, and that is what he did: he fell in +love with Rosy and married her. It suited all parties to keep it a +secret at first; but a secret is like a birth--when its time is full +forth it must come. Two little boys with Fairfax writ large on their +faces are bad to hide. Therefore it suits all parties now to declare the +marriage. And that is the whole story, an' it please your ladyship." + +"I warrant it did not please her ladyship at all," said Mr. Laurence +Fairfax, laughing at the recital. + +"No. She turned and went away in a rage; then came back to expound her +views with respect to Rosy's origin. I begged to inform her that from +time immemorial king's jesters had been of the Jocund family--an office +to the full as dignified as the office of public barber. And a barber +her ladyship's great-grandfather was, and shaved His Majesty's lieges +for a penny. Mr. Cecil Burleigh waited for her outside, and to him +immediately she of course repeated the tale. How does it come to be a +concern of his, I should be glad to know?" Nobody volunteered to gratify +her curiosity, but Mr. Laurence Fairfax could have done so, no doubt. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had not visited Minster Court that day: was this the +reason? Bessie was not absolutely indifferent to the omission, but she +had other diversions. That night she went up stairs with the young +mother (so young that Elizabeth could not fashion to call her by her +title of kindred) to view the boys in their cots, and saw her so loving +and tender over them that she could not but reflect how dear a companion +she must be to her philosopher after his lost Xantippe. She was such a +sweet and gentle lady that, though he had chosen to marry her privately, +he could have no reluctance in producing her as his wife. He had kept +her to himself unspoilt, had much improved her in their retired life, +and as he had no intention of bringing her into rivalry with finer +ladies, the charm of her adoring simplicity was not likely to be +impaired. He had set his mind on his niece Elizabeth for her friend from +the first moment of their meeting, and except Elizabeth he did not +desire that she should find, at present, any intimate friend of her own +sex. And Elizabeth was perfectly ready to be her friend, and to care +nothing for the change in her own prospects. + +"You know that my boys will make all the difference to you?" her uncle +said to her the next day, being a few minutes alone with her. + +"Oh yes, I understand, and I shall be the happier in the end. Abbotsmead +will be quite another place when they come over," was her reply. + +"There is my father to conciliate before they can come to Abbotsmead. He +is deeply aggrieved, and not without cause. You may help to smooth the +way to comfortable relations again, or at least to prevent a widening +breach. I count on that, because he has permitted you to come here, +though he knows that Rosy and the boys are with me. I should not have +had any right to complain had he denied us your visit." + +"But I should have had a right to complain, and I should have +complained," said Bessie. "My grandfather and I are friends now, because +I have plucked up courage to assert my right to respect myself and my +friends who brought me up; otherwise we must have quarrelled soon." + +Mr. Laurence Fairfax smiled: "My father can be obstinately unforgiving. +So he was to my brother Geoffry and his wife; so he may be to me, though +we have never had a disagreement." + +"I could fancy that he was sometimes sorry for his unkindness to my +father. I shall not submit if he attempt to forbid me your house or the +joy of seeing my little cousins. Oh, his heart must soften to them soon. +I am glad he saw Justus, the darling!" + +Bessie Fairfax had evidently no worldly ambition. All her desire was +still only to be loved. Her uncle Laurence admired her unselfishness, +and before she left his house at the week's end he had her confidence +entirely. He did not place too much reliance on her recollections of +Beechhurst as the place where she had centred her affections, for young +affections are prone to weave a fine gossamer glamour about early days +that will not bear the touch of later experience; but he was sure there +had been a blunder in bringing her into Woldshire without giving her a +pause amongst those scenes where her fond imagination dwelt, if only to +sweep it clear of illusions and make room for new actors on the stage of +her life. He said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, with whom he had an important +conversation during her visit to Minster Court, that he did not believe +she would ever give her mind to settling amongst her north-country +kindred until she had seen again her friends in the Forest, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh began to agree with him. Miss Burleigh did the same. + +It was settled already that the recent disclosure must make no +alteration in the family compact. Mr. Cecil Burleigh interposed a firm +veto when its repeal was hinted at. Every afternoon, one excepted, he +called on Miss Fairfax to report the progress of his canvass, +accompanied by his sister, and Bessie always expressed herself glad in +his promising success. But it was with a cool cheek and candor shining +clear in her blue eyes that she saw them come and saw them go; and both +brother and sister felt this discouraging. The one fault they found in +Miss Fairfax was an absence of enthusiasm for themselves; and Bessie was +so thankful that she had overcome her perverse trick of blushing at +nothing. When she took her final leave of them before quitting Minster +Court, Mr. Cecil Burleigh said that he should probably be over at +Abbotsmead in the course of the ensuing week, and Bessie was glad as +usual, and smiled cordially, and hoped that blue would win--as if he +were thinking only of the election! + +He was thinking of it, and perhaps primarily, but his interest in +herself was becoming so much warmer and more personal than it had +promised to be that it would have given him distinct pleasure to +perceive that she was conscious of it. + +The report of Mr. Laurence Fairfax's private marriage had spread through +city and country, but Bessie went back to Kirkham without having heard +it discussed except by Mrs. Betts, who was already so deeply initiated +in the family secrets. That sage and experienced woman owned frankly to +her young mistress that in her judgment it was a very good thing, looked +at in the right way. + +"A young lady that is a great heiress is more to be pitied than envied: +that is my opinion," said she. "If she is not made a sacrifice of in +marriage, it is a miracle. Men run after her for her money, or she +fancies they do, which comes to the same thing; and perhaps she doesn't +marry at all for suspecting nobody loves her; which is downright +foolish. Jonquil and Macky are in great spirits over what has come out, +and I don't suppose there is one neighbor to Kirkham that won't be +pleased to hear that there's grandsons, even under the rose, to carry on +the old line. Mrs. Laurence is a dear sweet lady, and the children are +handsome little fellows as ever stepped; their father may well be proud +of 'em. He has done a deal better for himself the second time than he +did the first. I dare say it was what he suffered the first time made +him choose so different the second. It is not to be wondered at that the +squire is vext, but he ought to have learnt wisdom now, and it is to be +hoped he will come round by and by. But whether or not, the deed's done, +and he cannot undo it." + +Mrs. Betts's summary embodied all the common sense of the case, and left +nothing more to be said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +_LADY LATIMER IN WOLDSHIRE_. + + +Mr. Fairfax welcomed Elizabeth on her arrival with an air of reserve, as +if he did not wish to receive any intelligence from Minster Court. +Bessie took the hint. The only news he had for her was that she might +mount Janey now as soon as she pleased. Bessie was pleased to mount her +the next morning, and to enjoy a delightful ride in her grandfather's +company. Janey went admirably, and promised to be an immense addition to +the cheerfulness of her mistress's life. Mr. Fairfax was gratified to +see her happy, and they chatted cordially enough, but Bessie did not +find it possible to speak of the one thing that lay uppermost in her +mind. + +In the afternoon Mrs. Stokes called, and having had a glimpse of Mr. +Laurence Fairfax's secret, and heard various reports since, she was +curious for a full revelation. Bessie gave her the narrative complete, +interspersed with much happy prediction; and Mrs. Stokes declared +herself infinitely relieved to hear that, in spite of probabilities, the +mysterious wife was a quite presentable person. + +"You remember that I told you Miss Jocund was a lady herself," she said. +"The Jocunds are an old Norminster family, and we knew a Dr. Jocund in +India. It was an odd thing for Miss Jocund to turn milliner; still, it +must be much more comfortable than dependence upon friends. There is +nothing so unsatisfactory as helpless poor relations. Colonel Stokes has +no end of them. I wish they would turn milliners, or go into Lady +Angleby's scheme of genteel mistresses for national schools, or do +anything but hang upon us. And the worst is, they are never grateful and +never done with." + +"Are they ashamed to work?" + +"No, I don't think shame is in their way, or pride, but sheer +incompetence. One is blind, another is a confirmed invalid." + +"Then perhaps Providence puts them in your lot for the correction of +selfishness," said Bessie laughing. "I believe if we all helped the need +that belongs to us by kindred or service, there would be little misery +of indigence in the world, and little superfluity of riches even amongst +the richest. That must have been the original reading of the old saw +that sayeth, 'Charity should begin at home.'". + +"Oh, political economy is not in my line," cried Mrs. Stokes, also +laughing. "You have caught a world of wisdom from Mr. Cecil Burleigh, no +doubt, but please don't shower it on me." + +Bessie did not own the impeachment by a blush, as she would have done a +week ago. She could hear that name with composure now, and was proving +an apt pupil in the manners of society. Mrs. Stokes scanned her in some +perplexity, and would have had her discourse of the occupations and +diversions of Brentwood, but all Bessie's inclination was to discourse +of those precious boys in Minster Court. + +"They are just of an age to be play-fellows with your boys," she said to +the blooming little matron. "How I should rejoice to see them racing +about the garden together!" + +Bessie was to wish this often and long before her loving desire was +gratified. If she had not been preassured that her grandfather did, in +fact, know all that was to be known about the children, nothing in his +conduct would have betrayed it to her. She told the story in writing to +her mother, and received advice of prudence and patience. The days and +weeks at Abbotsmead flowed evenly on, and brought no opportunity of +asking the favor of a visit from them. Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton drove +over to luncheon, and Bessie and her grandfather returned the civility. +Sir Edward Lucas came to call and stayed a long time, planning his new +town for colliers: Miss Fairfax said a word in praise of steep tiled +roofs as more airy than low roofs of slate, and Sir Edward was an easy +convert to her opinion. Mr. Cecil Burleigh came twice to spend a few +days, and brought a favorable report of his canvass; the second time his +sister accompanied him, and they brought the good news that Lady Latimer +was at Brentwood, and was coming to Hartwell the following week. + +Bessie Fairfax was certainly happier when there was company at +Abbotsmead, and she had a preference for Miss Burleigh's company; which +might be variously interpreted. Miss Burleigh herself considered Miss +Fairfax rather cold, but then Bessie was not expansive unless she loved +very fondly and familiarly. One day they fell a-talking of Mr. Laurence +Fairfax's wife, and Miss Burleigh suggested a cautious inquiry with a +view to obtaining Bessie's real sentiments respecting her. She received +the frankest exposition of them, with a bit of information to boot that +gave her a theme for reflection. + +"I think her a perfect jewel of a wife," said Bessie with genuine +kindness. "My uncle Laurence and she are quite devoted to one another. +She sings like a little bird, and it is beautiful to see her with those +boys. I wish we had them all at Abbotsmead. And she is _so_ pretty--the +prettiest lady I ever saw, except, perhaps, one." + +"And who was that one?" Miss Burleigh begged to know. + +"It was a Miss Julia Gardiner. I saw her first at Fairfield at the +wedding of Lady Latimer's niece, and again at Ryde the other day." + +"Oh yes! dear Julia was very lovely once, but she has gone off. The +Gardiners are very old friends of ours." Miss Burleigh turned aside her +face as she spoke. She had not heard before that Miss Fairfax had met +her rival and predecessor in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's affections: why had +her dear Cecil been so rash as to bring them in contact and give her the +opportunity of drawing inferences? That Bessie had drawn her inferences +truly was plain, from a soft blush and glance and a certain tone in her +voice as she mentioned the name of Miss Julia Gardiner, as if she would +deprecate any possible idea that she was taking a liberty. The subject +was not pursued. Miss Burleigh wished only to forget it; perhaps Bessie +had expected a confidential word, and was abashed at hearing none, for +she began to talk with eagerness, rather strained, of Lady Latimer's +promised visit to Hartwell. + +Lady Latimer's arrival was signalized by an immediate invitation to Mr. +Fairfax and his granddaughter to go over and lunch on a fixed day. +Bessie was never so impatient as till the day came, and when she mounted +Janey to ride to Hartwell she palpitated more joyously than ever she had +done yet since her coming into Woldshire. Her grandfather asked her why +she was so glad, but she found it difficult to tell him: because my lady +had come from the Forest seemed the root of the matter, as far as it +could be expressed. The squire looked rather glum, Macky remarked to +Mrs. Betts; and if she had been in his shoes wild horses should not have +drawn her into company with that proud Lady Latimer. The golden harvest +was all gone from the fields, and there was a change of hue upon the +woods--yellow and red and russet mingled with their deep green. The +signs of decay in the vivid life of Nature could not touch Bessie with +melancholy yet--the spring-tides of youth were too strong in her--but +Mr. Fairfax, glancing hither and thither over the bare, sunless +landscape, said, "The winter will soon be upon us, Elizabeth. You must +make the best of the few bright days that are remaining: very few and +very swift they seem when they are gone." + +Hartwell was as secluded amongst its evergreens and fir trees now as at +midsummer, but in the overcast day the house had a dull and unattractive +aspect. The maiden sisters sat in the gloomy drawing-room alone to +receive their guests, but after the lapse of a few minutes Lady Latimer +entered. She was dressed in rich black silk and lace--carefully dressed, +but the three years that had passed since Bessie Fairfax last saw her +had left their mark. Bessie, her heart swelling, her eyes shining with +emotion, moved to meet her, but Lady Latimer only shook hands with sweet +ceremoniousness, and she was instantly herself again. The likeness that +had struck the maiden sisters did not strike my lady, or, being warned +of it, she was on her guard. There was a momentary silence, and then +with cold pale face she turned to Mr. Fairfax, congratulated him on +having his granddaughter at home, and asked how long she had been at +Abbotsmead. Soon appeared Mr. Oliver Smith, anxious to talk election +gossip with his neighbor; and for a few minutes Bessie had Lady Latimer +to herself, to gaze at and admire, and confusedly to listen to, telling +Beechhurst news. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie charged me with innumerable kind words for +you--Jack wants you to go home before he goes to sea--Willie and Tom +want you to make tails for their kites--Miss Buff will send you a letter +soon--Mr. Wiley trusts you have forgiven him his forgetfulness of your +message." + +"Oh no, I have not. He lost me an opportunity that may come again I know +not when," said Bessie impetuously. + +"I must persuade your grandfather to lend you to me for a month next +spring, when the leaves are coming out and the orchards are in blossom; +or, if he cannot spare you then, when the autumn tints begin." + +"Oh, thank you! But I think the Forest lovely at all seasons--when the +boughs are bare or when they are covered with snow." + +Bessie would have been glad that the invitation should come now, without +waiting for next year, but that was not even thought of. Lady Latimer +was looking towards the gentlemen, more interested in their interests +than in the small Beechhurst chat that Bessie would never have tired of. +After a few minutes of divided attention my lady rose, and _a propos_ of +the Norminster election expressed her satisfaction in the career that +seemed to be opening for Mr. Cecil Burleigh: + +"Lord Latimer thought highly of him from a boy. He was often at Umpleby +in the holidays. He is like a son to my old friend at Brentwood; Lady +Angleby is happy in having a nephew who bids fair to attain distinction, +since her own sons prefer obscurity. She deplores their want of +ambition: it must be indeed a trial to a mother of her aspiring temper." +So my lady talked on, heard and not often interrupted; it was the old +voice and grand manner that Bessie Fairfax remembered so well, and once +so vastly reverenced. She did not take much more notice of Bessie. After +luncheon she chose to pace the lawn with her brother and Mr. Fairfax, +debating and predicting the course of public affairs, which shared her +thoughts with the government of Beechhurst. Bessie remained indoors with +the two quiet sisters, who were not disposed to forsake the fireside for +the garden: the wood-fire was really comfortable that clouded afternoon, +though September was not yet far advanced. Miss Charlotte sat by one of +the windows, holding back the curtain to watch the trio on the lawn, and +Bessie sat near, able to observe them too. + +"Dear Olympia is as energetic as ever, but, Juliana, don't you think she +is contracting a slight stoop to one side?" said Miss Charlotte. Miss +Juliana approached to look out. + +"She always did hang that arm. Dear Olympia! Still, she is a majestic +figure. She was one of the handsomest women in Europe, Miss Fairfax, +when Lord Latimer married her." + +"I can well imagine that: she is beautiful now when she smiles and +colors a little," said Bessie. + +"Ah, that smile of Olympia's! We do not often see it in these days, but +it had a magic. All the men were in love with her--she made a great +marriage. Lord Latimer was not one of our oldest nobility, but he was +very rich and his mansion at Umpleby was splendid, quite a palace, and +our Olympia was queen there." + +"We never married," said Miss Charlotte meekly. "It would not have done +for us to marry men who could not have been received at court, so to +speak--at Umpleby, I mean. Olympia said so at the time, and we agreed +with her. Dear Olympia was the only one of us who married, except +Maggie, our half-sister, the eldest of our father's children--Mrs. +Bernard's mother--and that was long before the great event in our +family." + +Bessie fancied there was a flavor of regret in these statements. + +Miss Juliana took up the thread where her sister had dropped it: "There +is our dear Oliver--what a perfect gentleman he was! How accomplished, +how elegant! If your sweet aunt Dorothy had not died when she did, he +might have been your near connection, Miss Fairfax. We have often urged +him to marry, if only for the sake of the property, but he has +steadfastly refused to give that good and lovely young creature a +successor. Our elder brother also died unmarried." + +Miss Charlotte chimed in again: "Lady Latimer moved for so many years in +a distinguished circle that she can throw her mind into public business. +We range with humble livers in content, and are limited to the politics +of a very small school and hamlet. You will be a near neighbor, Miss +Fairfax, and we hope you will come often to Hartwell: we cannot be Lady +Latimer to you, but we will do our best. Abbotsmead was once a familiar +haunt; of late years it has been almost a house shut up." + +Bessie liked the kindly, garrulous old ladies, and promised to be +neighborly. "I have been told," she said after a short silence, "that my +grandfather was devoted to Lady Latimer when they were young." + +"Your grandfather, my dear, was one amongst many who were devoted to +her," said Miss Juliana hastily. + +"No more than that? Oh, I hoped he was preferred above others," said +Bessie, without much reflecting. + +"Why hope it?" said Miss Charlotte in a saddened tone. "Dorothy thought +that he was, and resented Olympia's marriage with Lord Latimer as a +treachery to her brother that was past pardon. Oliver shared Dorothy's +sentiments; but we are all friends again now, thank God! Juliana's +opinion is, that dear Olympia cared no more for Richard Fairfax than she +cared for any of her other suitors, or why should she have married Lord +Latimer? Olympia was her own mistress, and pleased herself--no one else, +for we should have preferred Richard Fairfax, all of us. But she had her +way, and there was a breach between Hartwell and Abbotsmead for many +years in consequence. Why do we talk of it? it is past and gone. And +there they go, walking up and down the lawn together, as I have seen +them walk a hundred times, and a hundred to that. How strangely the old +things seem to come round again!" + +At that moment the three turned towards the house. Lady Latimer was +talking with great earnestness; Mr. Fairfax sauntered with his hands +clasped behind him and his eyes on the ground; Mr. Oliver Smith was not +listening. When they entered the room her grandfather said to Bessie, +"Come, Elizabeth, it is time we were riding home;" and when he saw her +wistful eyes turn to the visitor from the Forest, he added, "You have +not lost Lady Latimer yet. She will come over to Abbotsmead the day +after to-morrow." + +Bessie could not help being reminded by her grandfather's face and voice +of another old Beechhurst friend--Mr. Phipps. Perhaps this luncheon at +Hartwell had been pleasanter to her than to him, though even she had an +aftertaste of disappointment in it, because Lady Latimer no longer +dazzled her judgment. To the end my lady preserved her animation, and +when the visitors had mounted and were ready to ride away she still +engaged Mr. Fairfax's ear while she expounded her views of the mischief +that would accrue if ever election by ballot became the law of the land. + +"You must talk to Chiverton about that," said the squire, lifting his +hat and moving off. + +"I shall drive over to Castlemount to-morrow," said my lady; and she +accompanied her visitors to the gate with more last words on a variety +of themes that had been previously discussed and dismissed. + +All the way home the squire never once opened his mouth to speak; he +appeared thoroughly jaded and depressed and in his most sarcastic humor. +At dinner Bessie heard more bitter sentiments against her sex than she +had ever heard in her life before, and wondered whether they were the +residuum of his disappointed passion. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +_MY LADY REVISITS OLD SCENES_. + + +To meet Lady Latimer and Mr. Oliver Smith at Abbotsmead, Lady Angleby +and Mr. Cecil Burleigh came over from Brentwood. Bessie Fairfax was +sorry. She longed to have my lady to herself. She thought that she might +then ask questions about other friends in the Forest--about friends at +Brook--which she felt it impossible to ask in the presence of +uninterested or adverse witnesses. But Lady Latimer wished for no +confidential communications. She had received at Brentwood full +particulars of the alliance that was projected between the families of +Fairfax and Burleigh, and considered it highly desirable. My lady's +principle was entirely against any wilfulness of affection in young +girls. In this she was always consistent, and Bessie's sentimental +constancy to the idea of Harry Musgrave would have provoked her utter +disapproval. It was therefore for Bessie's comfort that no opportunity +was given her of betraying it. + +At luncheon the grand ladies introduced their philanthropic hobbies, and +were tedious to everybody but each other. They supposed the two young +people would be grateful to be left to entertain themselves; but Bessie +was not grateful at all, and her grandfather sat through the meal +looking terribly like Mr. Phipps--meditating, perhaps, on the poor +results in the way of happiness that had attended the private lives of +his guests, who were yet so eager to meddle with their neighbors' lives. +When luncheon was over, Lady Latimer, quitting the dining-room first, +walked through the hall to the door of the great drawing-room. The +little page ran quickly and opened to her, then ran in and drew back the +silken curtains to admit the light. The immense room was close yet +chill, as rooms are that have been long disused for daily purposes. + +"Ah, you do not live here as you used to do formerly?" she said to Mr. +Fairfax, who followed her. + +"No, we are a diminished family. The octagon parlor is our common +sitting-room." + +Bessie had promised Macky that some rainy day she would make a tour of +the house and view the pictures, but she had not done it yet, and this +room was strange to her. The elder visitors had been once quite familiar +with it. Lady Latimer pointed to a fine painting of the Virgin and +Child, and remarked, "There is the Sasso-Ferrato," then sat down with +her back to it and began to talk of political difficulties in Italy. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh was interested in Italy, so was Mr. Oliver Smith, and +they had a very animated conversation in which the others joined--all +but Bessie. Bessie listened and looked on, and felt not quite +happy--rather disenchanted, in fact. Lady Latimer was the same as +ever--she overflowed with practical goodness--but Bessie did not regard +her with the same simple, adoring confidence. Was it the influence of +the old love-story that she had heard? My lady seemed entirely free from +pathetic or tender memories, and domineered in the conversation here as +she did everywhere. Even Lady Angleby was half effaced, and the squire +had nothing to say. + +"I like her best at Fairfield," Bessie thought, but Bessie liked +everything best in the Forest. + +Just before taking her leave my lady said abruptly to the young lady of +the house, "An important sphere is open to you: I hope you will be able +to fill it with honor to yourself and benefit to others. You have an +admirable example of self-devotion, if you can imitate it, in Mrs. +Chiverton of Castlemount. She told me that you were school-fellows and +friends already. I was glad to hear it." + +These remarks were so distinctly enunciated that every eye was at once +attracted to Bessie's face. She colored, and with an odd, fastidious +twist of her mouth--the feminine rendering of the squire's cynical +smile--she answered, "Mrs. Chiverton has what she married for: God grant +her satisfaction in it, and save me from her temptation!" In nothing did +Bessie Fairfax's early breeding more show itself than in her audacious +simplicity of speech when she was strongly moved. Lady Latimer did not +condescend to make any rejoinder, but she remarked to Mr. Fairfax +afterward that habits of mind were as permanent as other habits, and she +hoped that Elizabeth would not give him trouble by her stiff +self-opinion. Mr. Fairfax hoped not also, but in the present instance he +had silently applauded it. And Mr. Burleigh was charmed that she had the +wit to answer so skilfully. + +When my lady was gone, Bessie grieved and vexed herself with +compunctious thoughts. But that was not my lady's last visit; she came +over with Miss Charlotte another afternoon when Mr. Fairfax was gone to +Norminster, and on this occasion she behaved with the gracious sweetness +that had fascinated her young admirer in former days. Bessie said she +was like herself again. At my lady's request Bessie took her up to the +white parlor. On the threshold she stopped a full minute, gazing in: +nothing of its general aspect was changed since she saw it last--how +long ago! She went straight to the old bookcase, and took down one of +Dorothy Fairfax's manuscript volumes and furled over the leaves. Miss +Charlotte drew Bessie to the window and engaged her in admiration of the +prospect, to leave her sister undisturbed. + +Presently my lady said, "Charlotte, do you remember these old books of +Dorothy's?" and Miss Charlotte went and looked over the page. + +"Oh yes. Dear Dorothy had such a pretty taste--she always knew when a +sentiment was nicely put. She was a great lover of the old writers." + +After a few minutes of silent reading my lady spoke again: "She once +recited to me some verses of George Herbert's--of when God at first made +man, how He gave him strength, beauty, wisdom, honor, pleasure, all to +keep, but with repining restlessness. They were a prophecy. I cannot +find them." She restored the volume to its shelf, quoting the last +lines--all she remembered distinctly: + + "Let him be rich and weary, that at last, + If goodness lead him not, yet weariness + May toss him to my breast." + +"I know; they are in the last volume, toward the end," said Bessie +Fairfax, and quickly found them. "They do not say that God gave man +love; and that is a craving too. Don't you think so?" + +Lady Latimer looked straight before her out of the window with lips +compressed. + +"What do you mean by love, my dear?--so many foolish feelings go by that +name," said Miss Charlotte, filling the pause. + +"Oh, I mean just love--the warm, happy feeling in my heart toward +everybody who belongs to me or is good to me--to my father and mother +and all of them at home, and to my grandfather now and my uncle +Laurence, and more besides." + +"You are an affectionate soul!" said my lady, contemplating her quietly. +"You were born loving and tender--" + +"Like dear Dorothy," added Miss Charlotte with a sigh. "It is a great +treasure, a warm heart." + +"Some of us have hearts of stone given us--more our misfortune than our +fault," said Lady Latimer with a sudden air of offence, and turned and +left the room, preceding the others down stairs. Bessie was startled; +Miss Charlotte made no sign, but when they were in the hall she asked +her sister if she would not like to see the gardens once more. Indeed +she would, she said; and, addressing Bessie with equanimity restored, +she reminded her how she had once told her that Abbotsmead was very +beautiful and its gardens always sunny, and she hoped that Bessie was +not disappointed, but found them answer to her description. Bessie said +"Yes," of course; and my lady led the way again--led the way everywhere, +and to and fro so long that Miss Charlotte was fain to rest at +intervals, and even Bessie's young feet began to ache with following +her. My lady recollected every turn in the old walks and noted every +alteration that had been made--noted the growth of certain trees, and +here and there where one had disappeared. "The gum-cistus is gone--that +lovely gum-cistus! In the hot summer evenings how sweet it was!--like +Indian spices. And my cedar--the cedar I planted--is gone. It might have +been a great tree now; it must have been cut down." + +"No, Olympia, it never grew up--it withered away; Richard Fairfax told +Oliver that it died," said Miss Charlotte. + +The ladies from Hartwell were still in the gardens when the squire came +home from Norminster, and on Jonquil's information he joined them there. +"Ah, Olympia! are you here?" he said. + +My lady colored, and looked as shy as a girl: "Yes; we were just going. +I am glad to have seen you to say good-bye." + +They did not, however, say good-bye yet; they took a turn together +amongst the old familiar places, Miss Charlotte and Bessie resting +meanwhile in the great porch, and philosophizing on what they saw. + +"Did you know grandpapa's wife--my grandmamma?" Bessie began by asking. + +"Oh yes, my dear. She was a sprightly girl before she married, but all +her life after she went softly. Mr. Fairfax was not an unkind or +negligent husband, but there was something wanting. She was as unlike +Olympia as possible--very plain and simple in her tastes and appearance. +She kept much at home, and never sought to shine in society--for which, +indeed, she was not fitted--but she was a good woman and fond of her +children." + +"And grandpapa was perfectly indifferent to her: it must have been +dreary work. Oh, what a pity that Lady Latimer did not care for him!" + +"She did care for him very much." + +"But if she cared for Umpleby more?" + +Miss Charlotte sighed retrospectively and said, "Olympia was ambitious: +she is the same still--I see no change. She longed to live in the +world's eye and to have her fill of homage--for Nature had gifted her +with the graces and talents that adorn high station--but she was never a +happy woman, never satisfied or at peace with herself. She ardently +desired children, and none were given her. I have often thought that she +threw away substance for shadow--the true and lasting joys of life for +its vain glories. But she had what she chose, and if it disappointed her +she never confessed to her mistake or avowed a single regret. Her pride +was enough to sustain her through all." + +"It is of no use regretting mistakes that must last a lifetime. But one +is sorry." + +The squire and Lady Latimer were drawing slowly towards the porch, +talking calmly as they walked. + +"Yes, one is sorry. Those two were well suited to each other once," said +Miss Charlotte. + +The Hartwell carriage came round the sweep, the Hartwell coachman--who +was groom and gardener too--not in the best of humors at having been +kept so long waiting. Lady Latimer, with a sweet countenance, kissed +Bessie at her leave-taking, and told her that permission was obtained +for her to visit Fairfield next spring. Then she got into the carriage, +and bowing and smiling in her exquisite way, and Miss Charlotte a little +impatient and tired, they drove off. Bessie, exhilarated with her rather +remote prospect of the Forest, turned to speak to her grandfather. But, +lo! his brief amenity had vanished, and he was Mr. Phipps again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +_A SUCCESS AND A REPULSE_. + + +The weather at the beginning of October was not favorable. There were +gloomy days of wind and rain that Bessie Fairfax had to fill as she +could, and in her own company, of which she found it possible to have +more than enough. Mr. Fairfax had acquired solitary tastes and habits, +and though to see Elizabeth's face at meal-times and to ride with her +was a pleasure, he was seldom at her command at other hours. Mrs. Stokes +was sociable and Mrs. Forbes was kind, but friends out of doors do not +compensate altogether for the want of company within. Sir Edward Lucas +rode or drove over rather frequently seeking advice, but he had to take +it from the squire after the first or second occasion, though his +contemporary would have given it with pleasure. Bessie resigned herself +to circumstances, and, like a well-brought-up young lady, improved her +leisure--practised her songs, sketched the ruins and the mill, and +learnt by heart some of the best pieces in her aunt Dorothy's collection +of poetry. + +Towards the middle of the month Mr. Cecil Burleigh came again, bringing +his sister with him to stay to the end of it. Bessie was very glad of +her society, and when her feminine acumen had discerned Miss Burleigh's +relations with the vicar she did not grudge the large share of it that +was given to his mother: she reflected that it was a pity these elderly +lovers should lose time. What did they wait for, Mr. Forbes and his +gentle Mary, Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sweet Julia? She would have +liked to arrange their affairs speedily. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh went to and fro between Norminster and Abbotsmead as +his business required, and if opportunity and propinquity could have +advanced his suit, he had certainly no lack of either. But he felt that +he was not prospering with Miss Fairfax: she was most animated, amiable +and friendly, but she was not in a propitious mood to be courted. Bessie +was to go to Brentwood for the nomination-day, and to remain until the +election was over. By this date it had begun to dawn on other +perceptions besides Mr. Cecil Burleigh's that she was not a young lady +in love. His sister struggled against this conviction as long as she was +able, and when it prevailed over her hopefulness she ventured to speak +of it to him. He was not unprepared. + +"I am, after all, afraid, Cecil, that Miss Fairfax may turn out an +uninteresting person," she began diffidently. + +"Because I fail to interest her, Mary--is that it?" said her brother. + +"She perplexes me by her cool, capricious behavior. _Now_ I think her +very dear and sweet, and that she appreciates you; then she looks or +says something mocking, and I don't know what to think. Does she care +for any one else, I should like to know?" + +"Perhaps she made some such discovery at Ryde for me." + +"She told me of your meeting with the Gardiners there. Poor Julia! I +wish it could be Julia, Cecil." + +"I doubt whether it will ever be Miss Fairfax, Mary. She is the oddest +mixture of wit and simplicity." + +"Perhaps she has some old prepossession? She would not be persuaded +against her will." + +"All her prepossessions are in favor of her friends in the Forest. There +was a young fellow for whom she had a childish fondness--he was at +Bayeux when I called upon her there." + +"Harry Musgrave? Oh, they are like brother and sister; she told me so." + +"She is a good girl, and believes it, perhaps; but it is a +brother-and-sisterhood likely to lapse into warmer relations, given the +opportunity. That is what Mr. Fairfax is intent on hindering. My hope +was in her youth, but she is not to be won by the semblance of wooing. +She is either calmly unconscious or consciously discouraging." + +"How will Mr. Fairfax bear his disappointment?" + +"The recent disclosure of his son Laurence's marriage will lessen that. +It is no longer of the same importance who Miss Fairfax marries. She has +a great deal of character, and may take her own way. She is all anxiety +now to heal the division between the father and son, that she may have +the little boys over at Abbotsmead; and she will succeed before long. +The disclosure was made just in time, supposing it likely to affect my +intentions; but Miss Fairfax is still an excellent match for me--for me +or any gentleman of my standing." + +"I fancy Sir Edward Lucas is of that opinion." + +"Yes, Sir Edward is quite captivated, but he will easily console +himself. The squire has intimated to him that he has other views for +her; the young man is cool to me in consequence." + +Miss Burleigh became reflective: "Miss Fairfax's position is changed, +Cecil. A good connexion and a good dower are one thing, and an heiress +presumptive to Kirkham is another. Perhaps you would as lief remain a +bachelor?" + +"If Miss Fairfax prove impregnable--yes." + +"You will test her, then?" + +"Surely. It is in the bond. I have had her help, and will pay her the +compliment." + +Miss Burleigh regarded her brother with almost as much perplexity as she +regarded Miss Fairfax. The thought passed through her mind that he did +not wish even her to suspect how much his feelings were engaged in the +pursuit of that uncertain young lady because he anticipated a refusal; +but what she thought she kept to herself, and less interested persons +did not observe that there was any relaxation in the aspirant member's +assiduities to Miss Fairfax. Bessie accepted them with quiet simplicity. +She knew that her grandfather was bearing the main cost of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's canvass, and she might interpret his kindnesses as gratitude: +it cannot be averred that she did so interpret them, for she gave nobody +her confidence, but the plea was open to her. + +Lady Angleby welcomed Miss Fairfax on her second visit to Brentwood as +if she were already a daughter of the house. It had not entered into her +mind to imagine that her magnificent nephew could experience the slight +of a rejection by this unsophisticated, lively little girl. She had +quite reconciled herself to the change in Bessie's prospects, and looked +forward to the marriage with satisfaction undiminished: Mr. Fairfax had +much in his power with reference to settlements, and the conduct of his +son Laurence would be an excitement to use it to the utmost extent. His +granddaughter in any circumstances would be splendidly dowered. Nothing +could be prettier than Bessie's behavior during this critical short +interval before the election, and strangers were enchanted with her. A +few more persons who knew her better were falling into a state of +doubt--her grandfather amongst them--but nothing was said to her, for it +was best the state of doubt should continue, and not be converted into a +state of certainty until the crisis was over. + +It was soon over now, and resulted in the return of Mr. Cecil Burleigh +as the representative of Norminster in the Conservative interest, and +the ignominious defeat of Mr. Bradley. Once more the blue party held up +its head in the ancient city, and Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Chiverton, and +others, their Tory contemporaries, were at ease again for the safety of +the country. Mr. Burleigh the elder had come from Carisfort for the +election, and he now for the first time saw the young lady of whom he +had heard so much. He was a very handsome but very rustic poor squire, +who troubled the society of cities little. Bessie's beauty was perfect +to his taste, especially when her blushes were revived by a certain +tender paternal significance and familiarity in his address to her. But +when the blushes cooled her spirit of mischief grew vivacious to repel +their false confession, and even Lady Angleby felt for a moment +disturbed. Only for a moment, however. She wished that Mr. Burleigh +would leave his country manners at home, and ascribing Bessie's shy +irritation to alarmed modesty, introduced a pleasant subject to divert +her thoughts. + +"Is there to be a ball at Brentwood or no ball, Miss Fairfax?" said she +with amiable suggestion. "I think there was something mooted about a +ball if my nephew won his election, was there not?" + +What could Bessie do but feel appeased, and brighten charmingly?--"Oh, +we shall dance for joy if you give us one; but if you don't think we +deserve it--" said she. + +"Oh, as for your deserts--Well, Mary, we must have the dance for joy. +Cecil wishes it, and so, I suppose, do you all," said her ladyship with +comprehensive affability. Mr. Burleigh nodded at Bessie, as much as to +say that nothing could be refused her. + +Bessie blushed again. She loved a little pleasure, and a ball, a real +ball--Oh, paradise! And Mr. Cecil Burleigh coming in at the moment she +forgot her proper reticent demeanor, and made haste to announce to him +the delight that was in prospect. He quite entered into her humor, and +availed himself of the moment to bespeak her as his partner to open the +ball. + +It was settled that she should stay at Brentwood to help in the +preparations for it, and her grandfather left her there extremely +contented. Cards of invitation were sent out indiscriminately to blue +and orange people of quality; carpenters and decorators came on the +scene, and were busy for a week in a large empty room, converting it and +making it beautiful. The officers of the cavalry regiment stationed at +Norminster were asked, and offered the services of their band. Miss +Jocund and her rivals were busy morning, noon, and night in the +construction of aërial dresses, and all the young ladies who were bidden +to the dance fell into great enthusiasm when it was currently reported +that the new member, who was so handsome and so wonderfully clever, was +almost, if not quite, engaged to be married to that pretty, nice Miss +Fairfax, with whom they were all beginning to be more or less +acquainted. + +Mr. Fairfax did not return to Brentwood until the day of the dance. Lady +Angleby was anxious that it should be the occasion of bringing her +nephew's courtship to a climax, and she gave reasons for the expediency +of having the whole affair carried through to a conclusion without +unnecessary delays. Sir Edward Lucas had been intrusive this last week, +and Miss Fairfax too good-natured in listening to his tedious talk of +colliers, cottagers, and spade husbandry. Her ladyship scented a danger. +There was an evident suitability of age and temper between these two +young persons, and she had fancied that Bessie looked pleased when Sir +Edward's honest brown face appeared in her drawing-room. She had been +obliged to ask him to her ball, but she would have been thankful to +leave him out. + +Mr. Fairfax heard all his old friend had to urge, and, though he made +light of Sir Edward, it was with a startling candor that he added, "But +woman's a riddle indeed if Elizabeth would give her shoe-tie for Cecil." +Lady Angleby was so amazed and shocked that she made no answer +whatever. The squire went on: "The farce had better pause--or end. +Elizabeth is sensitive and shrewd enough. Cecil has no heart to give +her, and she will never give hers unless in fair exchange. I have +observed her all along, and that is the conclusion I have come to. She +saw Miss Julia Gardiner at Ryde, and fathomed that old story: she +supposes them to be engaged, and is of much too loyal a disposition to +dream of love for another woman's lover. That is the explanation of her +friendliness towards Cecil." + +"But Julia Gardiner is as good as married," cried Lady Angleby. "Cecil +will be cruelly disappointed if you forbid him to speak to Miss Fairfax. +Pray, say nothing, at least until to-night is over." + +"I shall not interfere at the present point. Let him use his own +discretion, and incur a rebuff if he please. But his visits to +Abbotsmead are pleasant, and I would prefer not to have either Elizabeth +annoyed or his visits given up." + +"You have used him so generously that whatever you wish must have his +first consideration," said Lady Angleby. She was extremely surprised by +the indulgent tone Mr. Fairfax assumed towards his granddaughter: she +would rather have seen him apply a stern authority to the management of +that self-willed young lady, for there was no denial that he, quite as +sincerely as herself, desired the alliance between their families. + +Mr. Fairfax had not chosen a very opportune moment to trouble her +ladyship's mind with his own doubts. She was always nervous on the eve +of an entertainment at Brentwood, and this fresh anxiety agitated her to +such a degree that Miss Burleigh suffered a martyrdom before her duty of +superintendence over the preparations in ball-room and supper-room was +accomplished. Her aunt found time to tell her Mr. Fairfax's opinions +respecting his granddaughter, and she again found time to communicate +them to her brother. To her prodigious relief, he was not moved thereby. +He had a letter from Ryde in his pocket, apprising him on what day his +dear Julia was to become Mrs. Brotherton; and he was in an elastic humor +because of his late success--just in the humor when a man of mature age +and sense puts his trust in Fortune and expects to go on succeeding. +Perhaps he had not consciously endeavored to detach his thoughts from +Julia, but a shade of retrospective reverie had fallen upon her image, +and if she was lost to him, Elizabeth Fairfax was, of all other women he +had known, the one he would prefer to take her place. He was quite sure +of this, though he was not in love. The passive resistance that he had +encountered from Miss Fairfax had not whetted his ardor much, but there +was the natural spirit of man in him that hates defeat in any shape; and +from his air and manner his sister deduced that in the midst of +uncertainties shared by his best friends he still kept hold of hope. +Whether he might put his fate to the touch that night would, he said, +depend on opportunity--and impulse. + +Such was the attitude of parties on the famous occasion of Lady +Angleby's ball to celebrate her nephew's successful election. Miss +Fairfax had been a great help to Miss Burleigh in arranging the fruit +and the flowers, and if Mrs. Betts had not been peremptory in making her +rest a while before dinner, she would have been as tired to begin with +as a light heart of eighteen can be. The waiting-woman had received a +commission of importance from Lady Angleby (nothing less than to find +out how much or how little Miss Fairfax knew of Miss Julia Gardiner's +past and present circumstances), and accident favored her execution of +it. A cheerful fire blazed on the hearth in Bessie's room; by the hearth +was drawn up the couch, and a newspaper lay on the couch. Naturally, +Bessie's first act was to take it up, and when she saw that it was a +_Hampton Chronicle_ she exclaimed with pleasure, and asked did Mrs. +Betts receive it regularly from her friends?--if so, she should like to +read it, for the sake of knowing what went on in the Forest. + +"No, miss, it only comes a time by chance: that came by this afternoon's +post. I have barely glanced through it. I expect it was sent by my +cousin to let me know the fine wedding that is on the _tapis_ at +Ryde--Mr. Brotherton, her master, and Miss Julia Gardiner." + +"Miss Julia Gardiner!" exclaimed Bessie in a low, astonished voice. + +Mrs. Betts, with an indifference that a more cunning young lady than +hers would have felt to be carefully prepared, proceeded with her +information: "Yes, miss; you met the lady, I think? The gentleman is +many years older, but a worthy gentleman. And she is a most sweet lady, +which, where there is children to begin with, is much to be considered. +She has no fortune, but there is oceans of money on his side--oceans." + +Bessie did not jump to the conclusion that it was therefore a mercenary +marriage, as she had done in another case. She forgot, for the moment, +her interest in the Forest news, and though she seemed to be +contemplating her beautiful dress for the evening laid out upon the bed, +the pensive abstraction of her gaze implied profounder thoughts. Mrs. +Betts busied herself with various little matters--sewed on faster the +rosette of a white shoe, and the buttons on the gloves that were to be +worn with that foam of silvery tulle. What Bessie was musing of she +could not herself have told; a confused sensation of pain and pity was +uppermost at first. Mrs. Betts stood at a distance and with her back to +her young mistress, but she commanded her face in the glass, and saw it +overspread slowly by a warm soft blush, and the next moment she was +asked, "Do you think she will be happy, Mrs. Betts?" + +"We may trust so, miss," said the waiting-woman, still feigning to be +fully occupied with her duties to her young lady's pretty things. "Why +should she not? She is old enough to know her mind, and will have +everything that heart can desire--won't she?" + +Bessie did not attempt any answer to this suggestive query. She put the +newspaper aside, and stretched herself with a sigh along the couch, +folding her hands under her cheek on the pillow. Her eyes grew full of +tears, and so she lay, meditating on this new lesson in life, until Mrs. +Betts warned her that it was time to dress for dinner. Miss Fairfax had +by this date so far accustomed herself to the usages of young ladies of +rank that Mrs. Betts was permitted to assist at her toilette. It was a +silent process this evening, and the penetration of the waiting-woman +was at fault when she took furtive glances in the mirror at the subdued +face that never smiled once, not even at its own beauty. She gave Lady +Angleby an exact account of what had passed, and added for +interpretation, "Miss Fairfax was surprised and sorry, I'm sure. I +should say she believed Miss Julia Gardiner to be attached to somebody +else. The only question she asked was, Did I think she would be happy?" +Lady Angleby could extract nothing out of this. + +Every one was aware of a change in Bessie when she went into the +drawing-room; she felt as one feels who has heard bad news, and must +conceal the impression of it. But the visible effect was that her +original shyness seemed to have returned with more than her original +pride, and she blushed vividly when Mr. Cecil Burleigh made her a low +bow of compliment on her beautiful appearance. Mr. Fairfax had enriched +his granddaughter that day with a suite of fine pearls, once his sister +Dorothy's, and Bessie had not been able to deny herself the ornament of +them, shining on her neck and arms. Her dress was white and bright as +sea-foam in sunshine, but her own inimitable blooming freshness made her +dress to be scarcely at all regarded. Every day at this period added +something to her loveliness--the loveliness of youth, health, grace, and +a good nature. + +When dinner was over the three young people adjourned to the ball-room, +leaving Lady Angleby and Mr. Fairfax together. Miss Burleigh and Bessie +began by walking up and down arm-in-arm, then they took a few turns in a +waltz, and after that Miss Burleigh said, "Cecil, Miss Fairfax and you +are a perfect height to waltz together; try the floor, and I will go and +play with the music-room door open. You will hear very well." She went +off quickly the moment she had spoken, and Bessie could not refuse to +try the floor, but she had a downcast, conscious air under her impromptu +partner's observation. Mr. Cecil Burleigh was in a gay, light mood, as +became him on this public occasion of his election triumph, and he was +further elated by Miss Fairfax's amiable condescension in waltzing with +him at his sister's behest; and as it was certainly a pleasure to any +girl who loved waltzing to waltz with him, they went on until the music +stopped at the sound of carriage-wheels. + +"You are fond of dancing, Miss Fairfax?" said her cavalier. + +"Oh yes," said Bessie with a pretty upward glance. She had enjoyed that +waltz extremely; her natural animation was reviving, too buoyant to lie +long under the depression of melancholy, philosophic reverie. + +The guests were received in the drawing-room, and began to arrive in +uninterrupted succession. Mr. and Mrs. Tindal, Lord and Lady Eden, Mr. +and Mrs. Philip Raymond, Mr. Maurice and Miss Lois Wynyard, Mrs. Lefevre +and Miss Jean Lefevre, Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton, Colonel Stokes and his +wife, and Sir Edward Lucas with an architectural scheme in his pocket; +however, he danced none the worse for it, as Miss Fairfax testified by +dancing with him three times. She had a charming audacity in evading +awkward partners, and it was observed that she waltzed only with the new +member. She looked in joyous spirits, and acknowledged no reason why she +should deny herself a pleasure. More than once in the course of the +evening she flattered Lady Angleby's hopes by telling her it was a most +delicious ball. + +Mr. Fairfax contemplated his granddaughter with serene speculation. Lady +Angleby had communicated to him the results of Mrs. Betts's inquisition. +At a disengaged moment he noticed a wondering pathos in Bessie's eyes, +which were following Mr. Cecil Burleigh's agile movements through the +intricate mazes of the Lancers' Quadrilles. His prolonged gaze ended by +attracting hers; she blushed and drew a long breath, and seemed to shake +off some persistent thought. Then she came and asked, like a +light-footed, mocking, merry girl, if he was not longing to dance too, +and would he not dance with her? He dismissed her to pay a little +attention to Mrs. Chiverton, who sat like a fine statue against the +wall, unsought of partners, and Bessie went with cheerful submission. +Her former school-rival was kind to her now with a patronizing, married +superiority that she did not dislike. Mrs. Chiverton knew from her +husband of the family project for Miss Fairfax's settlement in life, and +as she approved of Mr. Cecil Burleigh as highly as her allegiance to Mr. +Chiverton permitted her to approve of anybody but himself, she spoke at +some length in his praise, desiring to be agreeable. Bessie suffered her +to go on without check or discouragement; she must have understood the +drift of many things this evening which had puzzled her hitherto, but +she made no sign. Miss Burleigh said to her brother when they parted +for the night that she really did not know what to think or what to +advise, further than that Sir Edward Lucas ought to be "set down," or +there was no guessing how far he might be tempted to encroach. Miss +Fairfax, she considered, was too universally inclined to please. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had no clear resolve of what he would do when he went +to walk in the garden the next morning. He knew what he wanted. A sort +of paradoxical exhilaration possessed him. He remembered his dear Julia +with tender, weary regret, and gave his fancy license to dwell on the +winsomeness of Bessie. And while it was so dwelling he heard her tuneful +tongue as she came with Miss Burleigh over the grass, still white with +hoar-frost where the sun had not fallen. He advanced to meet them. + +"Oh, Cecil, here you are! Mr. Fairfax has been inquiring for you, but +there is no hurry," said his sister, and she was gone. + +Bessie wore a broad shady hat, yet not shady enough to conceal the +impetuous blushes that mantled her cheeks on her companion's evasion. +She felt what it was the prelude to. Mr. Cecil Burleigh, inspired with +the needful courage by these fallacious signs, broke into a stammering +eloquence of passion that was yet too plain to be misunderstood--not +reflecting, he, that maiden blushes may have more sources than one. The +hot torrent of Bessie's rose from the fountain of indignation in her +heart--indignation at his inconstancy to the sweet lady who she knew +loved him, and his impertinence in daring to address herself when she +knew he loved that lady. She silently confessed that to this upshot his +poor pretences of wooing had tended from the first, and that she had +been wilfully half blind and wholly unbelieving--so unwilling are proud +young creatures to imagine that their best feelings can be traded +on--but she was none the less wrathful and scornful as she lifted her +eyes, dilated with tears, to his, and sweeping him a curtsey turned away +without a single word--without a single word, yet never was wooer more +emphatically answered. + +They parted and went different ways. Bessie, thinking she would give all +she was worth that he had held his peace and let her keep her dream of +pity and sympathy, took the shrubbery path to the village and Miss +Hague's cottage-lodgings; and Mr. Cecil Burleigh, repenting too late the +vain presumption that had reckoned on her youth and ignorance, apart +from the divining power of an honest soul, walked off to Norminster to +rid himself of his heavy sense of mortification and discomfiture. + +Miss Burleigh saw her brother go down the road, and knew what had +happened, and such a pang came with the certainty that only then did she +realize how great had been her former confidence. She stood a long while +at her window, listening and watching for Miss Fairfax's return to the +house, but Bessie was resting in Miss Hague's parlor, hearing anecdotes +of her father and uncles when they were little boys, and growing by +degrees composed after her disturbing emotion. She wished to keep the +morning's adventure to herself, or, if the story must be told, to leave +the telling of it to Mr. Cecil Burleigh; and when she went back to the +house, the old governess accompanying her, she betrayed no counsel by +her face: that was rosy with the winter cold, and hardly waxed rosier +when Lady Angleby expressed a wish to know what she had done with her +nephew, missing since breakfast. Bessie very simply said that she had +only seen him for a minute, and she believed that he had gone into the +town; she had been paying a long-promised visit to Miss Hague. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh, reappearing midway the afternoon, was summoned to +his aunt's closet and bidden to explain himself. The explanation was far +from easy. Lady Angleby was profoundly irritated, and reproached her +nephew with his blundering folly in visiting Miss Julia Gardiner in Miss +Fairfax's company. She refused to believe but that his fascination must +have proved irresistible if Miss Fairfax had not been led to the +discovery of that faded romance. Was he quite sure that the young lady's +answer was conclusive? Perfectly conclusive--so conclusive that he +should not venture to address her again. "Not after Julia's marriage?" +his sister whispered. Lady Angleby urged a temporary retreat and then a +new approach: it was impossible but that a fine, spirited girl like Miss +Fairfax must have ambition and some appreciation of a distinguished +mind; and how was her dear Cecil to support his position without the +fortune she was to bring him? At this point Mr. Cecil Burleigh +manifested a contemptuous and angry impatience against himself, and rose +and left the discussion to his grieved and disappointed female +relatives. Mr. Fairfax, on being informed of the repulse he had +provoked, received the news calmly, and observed that it was no more +than he had anticipated. + +Towards evening Bessie felt her fortitude failing her, and did not +appear at dinner nor in the drawing-room. Her excuses were understood +and accepted, and in the morning early Mr. Cecil Burleigh conveyed +himself away by train to London, that his absence might release her from +seclusion. Before he went, in a consultation with his aunt and Mr. +Fairfax, it was agreed that the late episode in his courtship should be +kept quiet and not treated as final. Later in the day Mr. Fairfax +carried his granddaughter home to Abbotsmead, not unconsoled by the +reflection that he was not to be called upon to resign her to make +bright somebody else's hearth. Bessie was much subdued. She had passed a +bad night, she had shed many tears, and though she had not encountered +one reproach, she was under the distressing consciousness that she had +vexed several people who had been good to her. At the same time there +could not be two opinions of the wicked duplicity of a gentleman who +could profess to love and wish to marry her when his heart was devoted +to another lady: she believed that she never could forgive him that +insult. + +Yet she was sorry even to tears again when she remembered him in the +dull little drawing-room at Ryde, and Miss Julia Gardiner telling him +that she had forgotten her old songs which he liked better than her new +ones; for it had dawned upon her that this scene--it had struck her then +as sad--must have been their farewell, the _finis_ to the love-chapter +of their youth. Bessie averted her mind from the idea that Miss Julia +Gardiner had consented to marry a rich, middle-aged gentleman who was a +widower: she did not like it, it was utterly repugnant, she hated to +think of it. Oh, that people would marry the right people, and not care +so much for rank and money! Lady Angleby's loveliest sister had forty +years ago aggrieved her whole family by marrying the poor squire of +Carisfort; and Lady Angleby had said in Bessie's hearing that her +sister was the most enviable woman she knew, happy as the day was long, +though so positively indigent as to be thankful for her eldest +daughter's half-worn Brentwood finery to smarten up her younger girls. +It must indeed be a cruel mistake to marry the wrong person. So far the +wisdom and sentiment of Bessie Fairfax--all derived from observation or +most trustworthy report--and therefore not to be laughed at, although +she was so young. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +_A HARD STRUGGLE_. + + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh's departure to town so immediately after Lady +Angleby's ball might have given rise to remark had he not returned to +Brentwood before the month's end, and in excellent spirits. During his +brief absence he had, however, found time to run down to the Isle of +Wight and see Miss Julia Gardiner. In all trouble and vexation his +thoughts still turned to her for rest. + +Twice already a day had been named for the marriage, and twice it had +been deferred to please her. It now stood fixed for February--"A good +time to start for Rome and the Easter festivals," she had pleaded. Mr. +Brotherton was kindness itself in consideration for her wishes, but her +own family felt that poor Julia was making a long agony of what, if it +were to be done at all, were best done quickly. When Mr. Cecil Burleigh +went to Ryde, he expected to find the preparations for the wedding very +forward, but nothing seemed to have been begun. The young ladies were +out walking, but Mrs. Gardiner, who had written him word that the 10th +of December was the day, now told him almost in the first breath that it +was put off again until the New Year. + +"We shall all be thankful to have it over. I never knew dear Julia so +capricious or so little thoughtful for others," said the poor languid, +weary lady. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh heard the complaint with a miserable compassion, and +when Julia came in, and her beautiful countenance broke into sunshine +at the sight of him, he knew what a cruel anticipation for her this +marriage really was. He could have wished for her sake--and a little for +his own too--that the last three months were blotted from their history; +but when they came to talk together, Julia, with the quick discernment +of a loving woman, felt that the youthful charms of Miss Fairfax had +warmly engaged his imagination, though he had so much tenderness of +heart still left for herself. + +He did not stay long, and when he was going he said that it would have +been wiser never to have come: it was a selfish impulse brought him--he +wanted to see her. Julia laughed at his simple confession; her sister +Helen was rather angry. + +"Now, I suppose you will be all unsettled again, Julia," said she, +though Julia had just then a most peaceful face. Helen was observant of +her: "I know what you are dreaming--while there is the shadow of a +chance that Cecil will return to you, Mr. Brotherton will be left +hanging between earth and heaven." + +"Oh, Nellie, I wish you would marry Mr. Brotherton yourself. Your +appreciation of his merits is far higher than mine." + +"If I were in your place I would not use him as you do: it _is_ a shame, +Julia." + +"It is not you who are sentenced to be buried alive, Nellie. I dare not +look forward: I dread it more and more--" + +"Of course. That is the effect of Cecil's ill-judged visit and Mary +Burleigh's foolish letter. Pray, don't say so to mamma; it would be +enough to lay her up for a week." + +Julia shut her eyes and sighed greatly. "Fashionable marriages are +advertised with the tag of 'no cards;' you will have to announce mine as +'under chloroform.' Nellie, I never can go through with it," was her +cry. + +"Oh, Julia," remonstrated her sister, "don't say that. If you throw over +Mr. Brotherton, half our friends will turn their backs upon us. We have +been wretchedly poor, but we have always been well thought of." + +Miss Julia Gardiner's brief joy passed in a thunder-shower of passionate +tears. + +It was not intended that the rebuff Mr. Cecil Burleigh had received +from Miss Fairfax should be generally known even by his friends, but it +transpired nevertheless, and was whispered as a secret in various +Norminster circles. Buller heard it, but was incredulous when he saw the +new member in his visual spirits; Mrs. Stokes guessed it, and was +astonished; Lady Angleby wrote about it to Lady Latimer with a petition +for advice, though why Lady Latimer should be regarded as specially +qualified to advise in affairs of the heart was a mystery. She was not +backward, however, in responding to the request: Let Mr. Cecil Burleigh +hold himself in reserve until Miss Julia Gardiner's marriage was an +accomplished fact, and then let him come forward again. Miss Fairfax had +behaved naturally under the circumstances, and Lady Latimer could not +blame her. When the young lady came to Fairfield in the spring, +according to her grandfather's pledge, Mr. Cecil Burleigh should have +the opportunity of meeting her there, but meanwhile he ought not +entirely to give up calling at Abbotsmead. This Mr. Cecil Burleigh could +not do without affronting his generous old friend--to whom Bessie gave +no confidence, none being sought--but he timed his first visit during +her temporary absence, and she heard of it as ordinary news on her +return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +_A VISIT TO CASTLEMOUNT._ + + +Bessie Fairfax had been but a few days at home after the Brentwood +rejoicings when there came for her an invitation from Mrs. Chiverton to +spend a week at Castlemount. She was perfectly ready to go--more ready +to go than her grandfather was to part with her. She read him the letter +at breakfast; he said he would think about it, and at luncheon he had +not yet made up his mind. Before post-time, however, he supposed he must +let her choose her own associates, and if she chose Mrs. Chiverton for +old acquaintance' sake, he would not refuse his consent, but Mr. +Chiverton and he were not on intimate terms. + +Bessie went to Castlemount under escort of Mrs. Betts. Mrs. Chiverton +was rejoiced to welcome her. "I like Miss Fairfax, because she is +honest. Her manner is a little brusque, but she has a good heart, and we +knew each other at school," was her reason given to Mr. Chiverton for +desiring Bessie's company. They got on together capitally. Mrs. +Chiverton had found her course and object in life already, and was as +deeply committed to philanthropic labors and letters as either Lady +Latimer or Lady Angleby. They were both numbered amongst her +correspondents, and she promised to outvie them in originality and +fertility of resource. What she chiefly wanted at Castlemount was a good +listener, and Bessie Fairfax, as yet unprovided with a vocation, showed +a fine turn that way. She reposed lazily at the end of Mrs. Chiverton's +encumbered writing-table, between the fire and the window, and heard her +discourse with infinite patience. Bessie was too moderate ever to join +the sisterhood of active reformers, but she had no objection to their +activity while herself safe from assaults. But when she was invited to +sign papers pledging herself to divers serious convictions she demurred. +Mrs. Chiverton said she would not urge her. Bessie gracefully +acquiesced, and Mrs. Chiverton put in a more enticing plea: "I can +scarcely expect to interest you in my occupations all at once, but they +bring to me often the most gratifying returns. Read that letter." + +Bessie read that letter. "Very honeyed phrases," said she with her odd +twist of the mouth, so like her grandfather. It was from a more +practised philanthropist than the young lady to whom it was addressed, +and was in a strain of fulsome adulation, redolent of gratitude for +favors to come. Religious and benevolent egotism is impervious to the +tiny sting of sarcasm. Mrs. Chiverton looked complacently lofty, and +Bessie had not now to learn how necessary to her was the incense of +praise. Once this had provoked her contempt, but now she discerned a +certain pathos in it; she had learnt what large opportunity the craving +for homage gives to disappointment. "You cannot fail to do some good +because you mean well," she said after the perusal of more letters, more +papers and reports. "But don't call me heartless and unfeeling because +I think that distance lends enchantment to the view of some of your +pious and charitable objects." + +"Oh no; I see you do not understand their necessity. I am busy at home +too. I am waging a crusade against a dreadful place called Morte, and a +cottage warfare with our own steward. These things do not interest Mr. +Chiverton, but he gives me his support. I tell him Morte must disappear +from the face of the earth, but there is a greedy old agent of Mr. +Gifford's, one Blagg, who is terribly in the way. Then I have +established a nursery in connection with the school, where the mothers +can leave their little children when they go to work in the fields." + +"Do they work in the fields hereabouts?" + +"Oh yes--at hoeing, weeding and stone-picking, in hay-time and harvest. +Some of them walk from Morte--four miles here and four back. There is a +widow whose husband died on the home-farm--it was thought not to answer +to let widows remain in the cottages--this woman had five young +children, and when she moved to Morte, Mr. Chiverton kindly kept her on. +I want her to live at our gates." + +"And what does she earn a day?" + +"Ninepence. Of course, she has help from the parish as well--two +shillings a week, I think, and a loaf for each child besides." + +A queer expression flitted over Bessie's face; she drew a long breath +and stretched her arms above her head. + +"Yes, I feel it is wrong: the widow of a laborer who died in Mr. +Chiverton's service, who spends all her available strength in his +service herself, ought not to be dependent on parish relief. I put it to +him one day with the query, Why God had given him such great wealth? A +little house, a garden, the keep of a cow, a pig, would have made all +the difference in the world to her, and none to him, except that her +children might have grown up stout and healthy, instead of ill-nurtured +and weakly. But you are tired. Let us go and take a few turns in the +winter-garden. It is the perfection of comfort on a windy, cold day like +this." + +Bessie acceded with alacrity. Castlemount was not the building of one +generation, but it owed its chief glories to its present master. Mr. +Chiverton had found it a spacious country mansion, and had converted it +into a palace of luxury and a museum of art--one reason why Morte had +thriven and Chiver-Chase become almost without inhabitant. Bessie +Fairfax was half bewildered amongst its magnificences, but its +winter-garden was to her the greatest wonder of all. She was not, +however, sufficiently acclimatized to an artificial temperature to enjoy +it long. "It is delicious, but as we are not hot-house ferns, a good +stretch over that upland would be, perhaps, more delicious still: it is +cold, but the sun shines," she said after two turns under the moist +glass. + +"We must not change the air too suddenly," Mrs. Chiverton objected. "The +wind is very boisterous." + +"There is a woman at work in it; is it your widow?" Bessie asked, +pointing down a mimic orange-grove. + +"Yes--poor thing! how miserably she is clothed! I must send her out one +of my knitted kerchiefs." + +"Oh yes, do," said Bessie; and the woollen garment being brought, she +was deputed to carry it to the weeding woman. + +On closer view she proved to be a lean, laborious figure, with an +anxious, weather-beaten face, which cleared a little as she received the +mistress's gift. It was a kerchief of thick gray wool, to cross over in +front and tie behind. + +"It will be a protection against the cold for my chest; I suffered with +the inflammation badly last spring," she said, approving it. + +"Put it on at once; it is not to be only looked at," said Bessie. + +The woman proceeded to obey, but when she wanted to tie it behind she +found a difficulty from a stiffness of one shoulder, and said, "It is +the rheumatics, miss; one catches it being out in the wet." + +"Let me tie it for you," said Bessie. + +"Thank you, miss, and thank the mistress for her goodness," said the +woman when it was done, gazing curiously at the young lady. And she +stooped again to her task, the wind making sport with her thin and +scanty skirts. + +Bessie walked farther down the grove, green in the teeth of winter. She +was thinking that this poor widow, work and pain included, was not less +contented with her lot than herself or than the beautiful young lady who +reigned at Castlemount. Yet it was a cruelly hard lot, and might be +ameliorated with very little thought. "Blessed is he that considereth +the poor," says the old-fashioned text, and Bessie reflected that her +proud school-fellow was in the way of earning this blessing. + +She was confirmed in that opinion on the following day, when the weather +was more genial, and they took a drive together in the afternoon and +passed through the hamlet of Morte. It had formed itself round a +dilapidated farm-house, now occupied as three tenements, in one of which +lived the widow. The carriage stopped in the road, and Mrs. Chiverton +got out with her companion and knocked at the door. It was opened by a +shrewd-visaged, respectable old woman, and revealed a clean interior, +but very indigent, with the tea-table set, and on a wooden stool by the +hearth a tall, fair young woman sitting, who rose and dropt a smiling +curtsey to Miss Fairfax: she was Alice, the second housemaid at +Abbotsmead, and waited on the white suite. She explained that Mrs. Macky +had given her leave to walk over and see her mother, but she was out at +work; and this was her aunt Jane, retired from service and come to live +at home with her widowed sister. + +An old range well polished, an oven that would not bake, and a boiler +that would not hold water,--this was the fireplace. The floor was of +bricks, sunken in waves and broken; through a breach in the roof of the +chamber over the "house" blew the wind and leaked the rain, in spite of +a sack stuffed with straw thrust between the rafters and the tiles. + +"Yes, ma'am, my poor sister has lived in this place for sixteen years, +and paid the rent regularly, three pounds a year: I've sent her the +money since she lost her husband," said the retired servant, in reply to +some question of Mrs. Chiverton's. "Blagg is such a miser that he won't +spend a penny on his places; it is promise, promise for ever. And what +can my poor sister do? She dar'n't affront him, for where could she go +if she was turned out of this? There's a dozen would jump at it, houses +is so scarce and not to be had." + +"There ought to be a swift remedy for wretches like Blagg," Mrs. +Chiverton indignantly exclaimed when they were clear of the +foul-smelling hamlet. "Why cannot it be an item of duty for the rural +police to give information of his extortion and neglect? Those poor +women are robbed, and they are utterly helpless to resist it. It is a +greater crime than stealing on the highway." + +"Do any of grandpapa's people live at Morte?" Bessie asked. + +"No, I think not; they are ours and Mr. Gifford's, and a colony of +miserable gentry who exist nobody can tell how, but half their time in +jail. It was a man from Morte who shot our head-keeper last September. +Poor wretch! he is waiting his trial now. When I have paid a visit to +Morte I always feel indifferent to my beautiful home." + +Bessie Fairfax felt a sharp pang of compunction for her former hard +judgment of Mrs. Chiverton. If it was ever just, time and circumstances +were already reversing it. The early twilight overtook them some miles +from Castlemount, but it was still clear enough to see a picturesque +ivied tower not far removed from the roadside when they passed +Carisfort. + +Bessie looked at it with interest. "That is not the dwelling-house--that +is the keep," Mrs. Chiverton said. "The house faces the other way, and +has the finest view in the country. It is an antiquated place, but +people can be very good and happy there." + +The coachman had slackened speed, and now stopped. A gentleman was +hastening down the drive--Mr. Forbes, as it turned out on his nearer +approach. The very person she was anxious to see! Mrs. Chiverton +exclaimed; and they entered on a discussion of some plan proposed +between them for the abolition of Morte. + +"I can answer for Mr. Chiverton's consent. Mr. Gifford is the +impracticable person. And of course it is Blagg's interest to oppose us. +Can we buy Blagg out?" said the lady. + +"No, no; that would be the triumph of iniquity. We must starve him out," +said the clergyman. + +More slowly there had followed a lady--Miss Burleigh, as Bessie now +perceived. She came through the gate, and shook hands with Mrs. +Chiverton before she saw who her companion in the carriage was, but when +she recognized Bessie she came round and spoke to her very pleasantly: +"Lady Augleby has gone to Scarcliffe to meet one of her daughters, and +I have a fortnight's holiday, which I am spending at home. You have not +been to Carisfort: it is such a pretty, dear old place! I hope you will +come some day. I am never so happy anywhere as at Carisfort;" and she +allowed Bessie to see that she included Mr. Forbes in the elements of +her happiness there. Bessie was quite glad to be greeted in this +friendly tone by Mr. Cecil Burleigh's sister; it was ever a distress to +her to feel that she had hurt or vexed anybody. She returned to +Castlemount in charming spirits. + +On entering the drawing-room before dinner there was a new arrival--a +slender little gentleman who knelt with one knee on the centre ottoman +and turned over a volume of choice etchings. He moved his head, and +Bessie saw a visage familiar in its strangeness. He laid the book down, +advanced a step or two with a look of pleased intelligence, bowed and +said, "Miss Fairfax!" Bessie had already recognized him. "Mr. Christie!" +said she, and they shook hands with the utmost cordiality. The world is +small and full of such surprises. + +"Then you two are old acquaintances? Mr. Christie is here to paint my +portrait," said Mrs. Chiverton. + +The meeting was an agreeable episode in their visit. At dinner the young +artist talked with his host of art, and Bessie learnt that he had seen +Italy, Spain, Greece, that he had friends and patrons of distinction, +and that he had earned success enough to set him above daily cares. Mr. +Chiverton had a great opinion of his future, and there was no better +judge in the circle of art-connoisseurs. + +"Mr. Christie has an exquisite taste and refinement--feelings that are +born in a man, and that no labor or pains can enable him to acquire," +her host informed Bessie. It was these gifts that won him a commission +for a portrait of the beautiful Mrs. Chiverton, though he was not +professedly a painter of portraits. + +After dinner, Miss Fairfax and he had a good talk of Beechhurst, of +Harry Musgrave, and other places and persons interesting to both. Bessie +asked after that drop-scene, at the Hampton theatre, and Mr. Christie, +in nowise shy of early reminiscences, gave her an amusing account of how +he worked at it. Then he spoke of Lady Latimer as a generous soul who +had first given him a lift, and of Mr. Carnegie as another effectual +helper. "He lent me a little money--I have long since paid it back," he +whispered to Bessie. He was still plain, but his countenance was full of +intelligence, and his air and manner were those of a perfectly simple, +cultivated, travelled gentleman. He did salaam to nobody now, for in his +brief commerce with the world he had learnt that genius has a rank of +its own to which the noblest bow, and ambition he had none beyond +excelling in his beloved art. Harry Musgrave was again, after long +separation, his comrade in London. He said that he was very fond of +Harry. + +"He is my constant Sunday afternoon visitor," he told Bessie. "My +painting-room looks to the river, and he enjoys the sunshine and the +boats on the water. His own chambers are one degree less dismal than +looking down a well." + +"He works very hard, does he not?--Harry used to be a prodigious +worker," said Bessie. + +"Yes, he throws himself heart and soul into whatever he undertakes, +whether it be work or pleasure. If he had won that fellowship the other +day I should have been glad. It would have made him easier." + +"I did not know he was trying for one. How sorry I am! It must be very +dull studying law." + +"He lightens that by writing articles for some paper--reviews of books +chiefly. There are five years to be got through before he can be called +to the bar--a long probation for a young fellow in his circumstances." + +"Oh, Harry Musgrave was never impatient: he could always wait. I am +pleased that he has taken to his pen. And what a resource you must be to +each other in London, if only to tell your difficulties and +disappointments!" + +"Oh yes, I am in all Musgrave's secrets, and he in mine," said Christie. +"A bachelor in chambers has not a superfluity of wants; he is short of +money now and then, but that is very much the case with all of us." + +Bessie laughed carelessly. "Poor Harry!" said she, and recollected the +tragical and pathetic stories of the poets that they used to discuss, +and of which they used to think so differently. She did not reflect how +much temptation was implied in the words that told her Harry was short +of money now and then. A degree of hardship to begin with was nothing +more than all her heroes had encountered, and their biography had +commonly succeeded in showing that they were the better for it--unless, +indeed, they were so unlucky as to die of it--but Harry had far too much +force of character ever to suffer himself to be beaten; in all her +visions he was brave, steadfast, persistent, and triumphant. She said so +to Mr. Christie, adding that they had been like brother and sister when +they were children, and she felt as if she had a right to be interested +in whatever concerned him. Mr. Christie looked on the carpet and said, +"Yes, yes," he remembered what friends and comrades they were--almost +inseparable; and he had heard Harry say, not so very long ago, that he +wished Miss Fairfax was still at hand when his spirits flagged, for she +used to hearten him more than anybody else ever did. Bessie was too much +gratified by this reminiscence to think of asking what the +discouragements were that caused Harry to wish for her. + +The next day Mrs. Chiverton's portrait was begun, and the artist was as +happy as the day was long. His temper was excellent unless he were +interrupted at his work, and this Mr. Chiverton took care should not +happen when he was at home. But one morning in his absence Mr. Gifford +called on business, and was so obstinate to take no denial that Mrs. +Chiverton permitted him to come and speak with her in the +picture-gallery, where she was giving the artist a sitting. Bessie +Fairfax, who had the tact never to be in the way, was there also, +turning over his portfolio of sketches (some sketches on the beach at +Yarmouth greatly interested her), but she looked up with curiosity when +the visitor entered, for she knew his reputation. + +He was a fat man of middle age, with a thin voice and jerky manner. "I +had Forbes yesterday, Mrs. Chiverton, to speak to me in your name," he +announced. "Do you know him for the officious fellow he is, for ever +meddling in other people's matters? For ten years he has pestered me +about Morte, which is no concern of mine." + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Gifford, it is very much your concern," Mrs. +Chiverton said with calm deliberation. "Eleven laborers, employed by +farmers on your estate, representing with their families over thirty +souls, live in hovels at Morte owned by you or your agent Blagg. They +are unfit for human habitation. Mr. Chiverton has given orders for the +erection of groups of cottages sufficient to house the men employed on +our farms, and they will be removed to them in the spring. But Mr. +Fairfax and other gentlemen who also own land in the bad neighborhood of +Morte object to the hovels our men vacate being left as a harbor for the +ragamuffinery of the district. They require to have them cleared away; +most of these, again, are in Blagg's hands." + +"The remedy is obvious: those gentlemen do not desire to be munificent +at Blagg's expense--let them purchase his property. No doubt he has his +price." + +"Yes, Mr. Gifford, but a most extortionate price. And it is said he +cannot sell without your consent." + +Mr. Gifford grew very red, and with stammering elocution repelled the +implication: "Blagg wants nobody's consent but his own. The fact is, the +tenements pay better to keep than they would pay to sell; naturally, he +prefers to keep them." + +"But if you would follow Mr. Chiverton's example, and let the whole +place be cleared of its more respectable inhabitants at one blow, he +would lose that inducement." + +Mr. Gifford laughed, amazed at this suggestion--so like a woman, as he +afterwards said. "Blagg has served me many years--I have the highest +respect for him. I cannot see that I am called on to conspire against +his interests." + +Mrs. Chiverton's countenance had lost its serenity, and would not soon +recover it, but Bessie Fairfax could hardly believe her ears when the +artist muttered, "Somebody take that chattering fool away;" and up he +jumped, cast down his palette, and rushed out of the gallery. Mrs. +Chiverton looked after him and whispered to Bessie, "What is it?" "Work +over for the day," whispered Bessie again, controlling an inclination to +laugh. "The temperament of genius disturbed by the intrusion of +unpleasant circumstances." Mrs. Chiverton was sorry; perhaps a walk in +the park would recompose the little man. There he was, tearing over the +grass towards the lake. Then she turned to Mr. Gifford and resumed the +discussion of Morte, with a warning of the terrible responsibility he +incurred by maintaining that nest of vice and fever; but as it was +barren of results it need not be continued. + +The next day the painter worked without interruption. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +_BESSIE'S PEACEMAKING._ + + +When Bessie Fairfax returned from Castlemount she learnt for a first +piece of news that Mr. Cecil Burleigh had spent two days of her absence +at Abbotsmead, and that he had only left in the morning. To this +information her grandfather added that he had seen in his time +unsuccessful lovers, more dejected. Bessie laughed and blushed, and said +she was glad to hear he was in good spirits; and this was their first +and last allusion to the crowning episode of her visit to Brentwood. The +squire gave her one searching look, and thought it wisdom to be silent. + +The green rides of the woods and glades of the park were all encumbered +with fallen leaves. The last days of autumn were flown, and winter was +come. The sound of the huntsman's horn was heard in the fields, and the +squire came out in his weather-stained scarlet coat to enjoy the sport +which was the greatest pleasure life had left for him. One fine soft +morning at the end of November the meet was at Kirkham turnpike, and +Abbotsmead entertained the gentlemen of the hunt at breakfast. + +Bessie rode a little way with her grandfather, and would have ridden +farther, but he sent her back with Ranby. Mr. Cecil Burleigh had once +expressed a prejudice against foxhunting ladies, and when Mr. Fairfax +saw his granddaughter the admiration of the miscellaneous gathering, and +her acquaintance claimed by even Mr. Gifford, he adopted it. Bessie was +disappointed. She liked the exercise, the vivacity of the sport, and +Janey went so beautifully; but when her grandfather spoke she quietly +submitted. Sir Edward Lucas, though he was charmed with her figure on +horseback, was still more charmed by her obedience. + +The burden of Bessie's present life threatened to be the tedium of +nothing to do. She could not read, practise her songs, and learn poetry +by heart all the hours of the day: less than three sufficed her often. +If she had been bred in a country-house, she would have possessed +numerous interests that she inevitably lacked. She was a stranger +amongst the villagers--neither old nor young knew her. There was little +suffering to engage her sympathy or poverty to invite her help. At +Kirkham there were no long-accumulated neglects to reform as there was +at Morte, and to Morte Mr. Fairfax forbade her to go. She had a liberal +allowance, and not half ways enough to spend it, so she doubled her +allowance to Miss Hague on behalf of her former pupils, Geoffry and +Frederick; Laurence paid his own. + +She was not a girl of many wants, and her taste did not incline to idle +expenditure. She had seen thrift and the need of thrift in her early +home, and thought money much too valuable to be wasted in buying things +she did not require. Where she saw a necessity she was the freest of +givers, but she had experience, gained in her rides with Mr. Carnegie, +against manufacturing objects of sentimental charity. + +Her resource for a little while was the study of the house and +neighborhood she lived in. There was a good deal of history connected +with Kirkham. But it was all contained in the county gazetteer; and when +Macky had instructed her in the romance of the family, and the legends +attached to the ruins by the river and the older portions of the +mansion, all was learnt that there was to know, and the sum of her +reflections announced aloud was, that Abbotsmead was a very big house +for a small family. Macky shook her head in melancholy acquiescence. + +The December days were very long, and the weather wild and stormy both +by land and sea. Bessie conjectured sometimes when her uncle Frederick +would come home, but it appeared presently that he was not coming. He +wrote that he had laid up the Foam in one of the Danish ports to be +ready for the breaking up of the winter and a further exploration of the +Baltic coasts, and that he was just starting on a journey into +Russia--judging that the beauty of the North is in perfection during the +season of ice and snow. + +"Just like one of Fred's whims!" said his father discontentedly. "As if +he could not have come into Woldshire and have enjoyed the hunting! +Nobody enjoyed it more than he did formerly." + +He did not come, however, and Bessie was not astonished. Under other +circumstances Abbotsmead might have been a cheerful house, but it seemed +as if no one cared to make it cheerful now: if the days got over +tranquilly, that was enough. The squire and his granddaughter dined +alone day after day, Mr. Forbes relieved their monotony on Sundays, and +occasionally Mr. Oliver Smith came for a night. Society was a toil to +Mr. Fairfax. He did not find his house dull, and would have been +surprised to know that Elizabeth did. What could she want that she had +not? She had Janey to ride, and Joss, a companionable dog, to walk with; +she had her carriage, and could drive to Hartwell as often as she +pleased; and at her gates she had bright little Mrs. Stokes for company +and excellent Mrs. Forbes for counsel. Still, Bessie felt life stagnant +around her. She could not be interested in anything here without an +effort. The secret of it was her hankering after the Forest, and partly +also her longing for those children. To have those dear little boys over +from Norminster would cheer her for the whole winter; but how to compass +it? Once she thought she would bring them over without leave asked, but +when she consulted Mrs. Stokes, she was assured that it would be a +liberty the squire would never forgive. + +"I am not afraid of being never forgiven," rejoined Bessie. "I shall do +some desperate act one of these days if I am kept idle. Think of the +echoes in this vast house answering only the slamming of a door! and +think of what they would have to answer if dear little unruly Justus +were in the old nursery!" + +Mrs. Stokes laughed: "I am only half in sympathy with you. Why did you +discourage that fascinating Mr. Cecil Burleigh? A young lady is never +really occupied until she is in love." + +Bessie colored slightly. "Well," she said, "I am in love--I am in love +with my two little boy-cousins. What do you advise? My grandfather has +never mentioned them. It seems as if it would be easier to set them +before him than to speak of them." + +"I should not dare to do that. What does Mr. Laurence Fairfax say? What +does his wife say?" + +"Not much. My grandfather is treating them precisely as he treated my +father and my mother--just letting them alone. And it would be so much +pleasanter if we were all friends! I call it happiness thrown away. I +have everything at Abbotsmead but that. It is not like a home, and the +only motive there was for me to try and root there is taken away since +those boys came to light." + +"Your future prospects are completely changed. You bear it very well." + +"It is easy to bear what I am truly thankful for. Abbotsmead is nothing +to me, but those boys ought to be brought up in familiarity with the +place and the people. I am a stranger, and I don't think I am very apt +at making humble friends. To enjoy the life one ought to begin one's +apprenticeship early. I wonder why anybody strains after rank and +riches? I find them no gain at all. I still think Mr. Carnegie the best +gentleman I know, and his wife as true a gentlewoman as any. You are +smiling at my partiality. Shall you be shocked if I add that I have met +in Woldshire grand people who, if they were not known by their titles, +would be reckoned amongst the very vulgar, and gentry of old extraction +who bear no brand of it but that disagreeable manner which is qualified +as high-bred insolence?" + +Mrs. Stokes held all the conventionalities in sincere respect. She did +not understand Miss Fairfax, and asked who, then, of their acquaintance +was her pattern of a perfect lady. Bessie instanced Miss Burleigh. "Her +sweet graciousness is never at fault, because it is the flower of her +beautiful disposition," said she. + +"I should never have thought of her," said Mrs. Stokes reflectively. +"She is very good. But to go back to those boys: do nothing without +first speaking to Mr. Fairfax." + +Bessie demurred, and still believed her own bolder device the best, but +she allowed herself to be overruled, and watched for an opportunity of +speaking. Undoubtedly, Mr. Fairfax loved his granddaughter with more +respect for her independent will than he might have done had they been +together always. He had denied her no reasonable request yet, and he +granted her present prayer so readily that she was only sorry she had +not preferred it earlier. + +"Grandpapa, you will give me a Christmas gift, will you not?" she said +one evening after dinner about a week before that festive season. + +"Yes, Elizabeth. What would you like?" was his easy reply. It was a +satisfaction to hear that she had a wish. + +"I should like to have my two little cousins from Norminster--Justus and +Laury. They would quite enliven us." + +Mr. Fairfax was evidently taken by surprise. Still, he did not rebuke +her audacity. He was silent for a minute or two, as if reflecting, and +when he answered her it was with all the courtesy that he could have +shown towards a guest for whose desires he was bound to feel the utmost +deference. "Certainly, Elizabeth," said he. "You have a right to be +here, as I told you at your first coming, and it would be hard that I +should forbid you any visitor that would enliven you. Have the little +boys, by all means, if you wish it, and make yourself as happy as you +can." + +Elizabeth thanked him warmly. "I will write to-morrow. Oh, I know they +may come--my uncle Laurence promised me," said she. "And the day before +Christmas Eve, Mrs. Betts and I will go for them. I am so glad!" + +Mr. Fairfax did not check her gay exuberance, and all the house heard +what was to be with unfeigned joy. Mrs. Stokes rejoiced too, and pledged +her own sons as playfellows for the little visitors. And when the +appointed time came, Bessie did as she had said, and made a journey to +Norminster, taking Mrs. Betts with her to bring the children over. Their +father and pretty young mother consented to their going with the less +reluctance because it seemed the first step towards the re-establishment +of kindly relations with the offended squire; and Sally was sent with +them. + +"Next Christmas you will come too," said Bessie, happier than any queen +in the exercise of her office as peacemaker, and important also as +being put in charge of those incomparable boys, for Sally was, of +course, under superior orders. + +The first drawback to her intense delight was a whimper from Laury as he +lost sight of his mamma, and the next drawback was that Justus asked to +be taken home again the moment the train reached Mitford Junction. These +little troubles were quickly composed, however, though liable, of +course, to break out again; and Bessie felt flushed and uneasy lest the +darling boys should fail of making a pleasant first impression on +grandpapa. Alas for her disquiets! She need have felt none. Jonquil +received her at the door with a sad countenance; and Macky, as she came +forward to welcome the little gentlemen, betrayed that her temper had +been tried even to tears not very long before. Jonquil did not wait to +be inquired of respecting his master, but immediately began to say, in +reply to his young lady's look of troubled amazement, "The squire, miss, +has gone on a journey. I was to tell you that he had left you the house +to yourself." + +"Gone on a journey? But he will return before night?" said Bessie. + +"No, miss. We are to expect him this day week, when Mr. Laurence's +children have gone back to Norminster," explained the old servant in a +lower voice. + +Bessie comprehended the whole case instantly. Macky was relieving her +pent feelings by making a fuss with the little boys, and giving Mrs. +Betts her mind on the matter. The group stood disconcerted in the hall +for several minutes, the door open and the low winter sun shining upon +them. Bessie did not speak--she could not. She gazed at the children, +pale herself and trembling all over. Justus began to ask where was +grandpapa, and Laury repeated his question like a lisping echo. There +was no answer to give them, but they were soon pacified in the old +nursery where their father had played, and were made quite happy with a +grand parade of new toys on the floor, expressly provided for the +occasion. Bed-time came early, and Bessie was relieved when it did come. +Never in the whole course of her life had she felt so hurt, so insulted, +so injured; and yet she was pained, intensely pained, for the old man +too. Perhaps he had meant her to be so, and that was her punishment. +Jonquil could give her no information as to whither his master had +gone, but he offered a conjecture that he had most probably gone up to +London. + +If it was any comfort to know that the old servants of the house +sympathized with her, Bessie had that. They threw themselves heart and +soul into the work of promoting the pleasure of the little visitors. +Jonquil proved an excellent substitute for grandpapa, and Macky turned +out an inexhaustible treasury of nice harmless things to eat, of funny +rhymes to sing, and funny stories to tell in a dramatic manner. Still, +it was a holiday spoilt. It was not enjoyed in the servants' hall nor in +the housekeeper's room. No amount of Yule logs or Yule cakes could make +a merry Christmas of it that year. All the neighbors had heard with +satisfaction that Mr. Fairfax's little grandsons were to be brought to +Abbotsmead, and such as had children made a point of coming over with +them, so that the way in which Miss Fairfax's effort at peacemaking had +failed was soon generally known, and as generally disapproved. Mrs. +Stokes, that indignant young matron, qualified the squire's behavior as +"Quite abominable!" but she declared that she would not vex herself if +she were Miss Fairfax--"No, indeed!" Bessie tried hard not. She tried to +be dignified, but her disappointment was too acute, and her +grandfather's usage of her too humiliating, to be borne with her +ordinary philosophy. + +She let her uncle Laurence know what had happened by letter, and on the +day fixed for the children to go home again she went with them, attended +by Mrs. Betts as before. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was half amused at the +method by which his father had evaded Bessie's bold attempt to rule him, +and his blossom of a wife was much too happy to care for the old +squire's perversity unless he cared; but they were both sorry for +Bessie. + +"My grandfather lets me have everything but what I want," she said with +a tinge of rueful humor. "He surrounds me with every luxury, and denies +me the drink of cold water that I thirst for. I wish I could escape from +his tyranny. We were beginning to be friends, and this has undone it +all. A refusal would not have been half so unkind." + +"There is nothing but time to trust to," said her uncle Laurence. "My +father's resentment is not active, but it lasts." + +Bessie was quite alone that long evening, the last of the old year: at +Beechhurst or at Brook there was certainly a party. Nor had she any +intimation of the time of her grandfather's return beyond what Jonquil +had been able to give her a week ago. He had not written since he left, +and an accumulation of letters awaited him in his private room, Jonquil +having been unable to forward any for want of an address. The dull +routine of the house proceeded for three days more, and then the master +reappeared at luncheon without notice to anybody. + +Mr. Fairfax took his seat at the table, ate hungrily, and looked so +exactly like himself, and so unconscious of having done anything to +provoke anger, to give pain or cause anxiety, that Bessie's imaginary +difficulties in anticipation of his return were instantly removed. He +made polite inquiries after Janey and Joss, and even hoped that Bessie +had been enlivened by her little cousins' visit. She would certainly not +have mentioned them if he had not, but, as he asked the question, she +was not afraid to answer him. + +"Yes," said she, "children are always good company to me, especially +boys; and they behaved so nicely, though they are very high-spirited, +that I don't think they would have been inconvenient if you had stayed +at home." + +"Indeed? I am glad to hear they are being well brought up," said the +squire; and then he turned to Jonquil and asked for his letters. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +_ABBOTSMEAD IN SHADOW._ + + +Mr. Fairfax's letters were brought to him, and after glancing cursorily +through the batch, he gathered them all up and went off to his private +room. Bessie conjectured that he would be busy for the rest of the +afternoon, and she took a walk in the park until dusk, when she returned +to the house and retired to her own parlor. The dressing-bell rang at a +quarter to seven, as usual, and Mrs. Betts came to assist at her young +lady's toilet. Being dressed, Bessie descended to the octagon room, +which she found empty. + +It was a fine, frosty night, and the sky was full of stars. She put +aside a curtain and looked out into the wintry garden, feeling more than +ever alone and desolate amidst the grandeur of her home. It seemed as if +the last unkindness she had suffered was the worst of all, and her heart +yearned painfully towards her friends in the Forest. Oh, for their +simple, warm affection! She would have liked to be sitting with her +mother in the old-fashioned dining-room at Beechhurst, listening for the +doctor's return and the clink of Miss Hoyden's hoofs on the hard frozen +road, as they had listened often in the winters long ago. She forgot +herself in that reverie, and scarcely noticed that the door had been +opened and shut again until her grandfather spoke from the hearth, +saying that Jonquil had announced dinner. + +The amiable disposition in which the squire had come home appeared to +have passed off completely. Bessie had seen him often crabbed and +sarcastic, but never so irritable as he was that evening. Nothing went +right, from the soup to the dessert, and Jonquil even stirred the fire +amiss. Some matter in his correspondence had put him out. But as he made +no allusion to his grievance, Bessie was of course blind and deaf to his +untoward symptoms. The next day he went to Norminster to see Mr. John +Short, and came back in no better humor--in a worse humor if +possible--and Mrs. Stokes whispered to Bessie the explanation of it. + +Mr. Fairfax had inherited a lawsuit with a small estate in Durham, +bequeathed to him by a distant connexion, and this suit, after being for +years a blister on his peace, had been finally decided against him. The +estate was lost, and the plague of the suit with it, but there were +large costs to pay and the time was inconvenient. + +"Your grandfather contributed heavily to the election of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh in the prospect of an event which it seems is not to be," +concluded the little lady with reproachful significance. "My Arthur told +me all about it (Mr. Fairfax consults him on everything); and now there +are I don't know how many thousands to pay in the shape of back rents, +interest, and costs, but it is an immense sum." + +Bessie was sorry, very sorry, and showed it with so much sense and +sympathy that her grandfather presently revealed his vexations to her +himself, and having once mentioned them, he found her a resource to +complain to again. She hoped that he would get over his defeat the +sooner for talking of it, but he did not. He was utterly convinced that +he had right on his side, and he wanted a new trial, from which Mr. John +Short could hardly dissuade him. The root of his profound annoyance was +that Abbotsmead must be encumbered to pay for the lost suit, unless his +son Frederick, who had ready money accumulated from the unspent fortune +of his wife, would come to the rescue. In answer to his father's appeal +Frederick wrote back that a certain considerable sum which he mentioned +was at his service, but as for the bulk of his wife's fortune, he +intended it to revert to her family. Mr. Laurence Fairfax made, through +the lawyer, an offer of further help to keep Abbotsmead clear of +mortgages, and with the bitter remark that it was Laurence's interest to +do so, the squire accepted his offer. + +So much at this crisis did Bessie hear of money and the burden and +anxiety of great estates that she thought poverty must be far +preferable. The squire developed a positively bad temper under his +worries. And he was not irritable only: by degrees he became ill, and +yet would have no advice. Jonquil was greatly troubled about him, and +when he refused to mount his horse one splendid hunting morning in +February, though he was all equipped and ready, Bessie also began to +wonder what ailed him besides crossness, for he was a man of strong +constitution and not subject to fanciful infirmities. + +Early in March, Mr. Frederick Fairfax wrote home that his Russian tour +was accomplished, and that he was impatient to be on board his yacht +again. The weather was exceedingly rough and tempestuous later in the +month, and the squire, watching the wrack of the storm on the wolds, +often expressed anxiety lest his son should be rash and venturesome +enough to trust himself out of port in such weather. Everybody was +relieved when April opened with sunny showers and the long and severe +winter seemed to be at an end. It had not made Bessie more in love with +her life at Abbotsmead: there had, indeed, been times of inexpressible +dreariness in it very trying to her fortitude. With the dawning of +brighter days in spring she could not but think of the Forest with fresh +longing, and she watched each morning's post for the arrival of that +invitation to Fairfield which Lady Latimer had promised to send. At +length it came, and after brief demur received a favorable answer. The +squire had a mortified consciousness that his granddaughter's life was +not very cheerful, and, though he did not refuse her wish, he was unable +to grant it heartily. However, the fact of his consent overcame the +manner of it, and Bessie was enjoying the pleasures of anticipation, and +writing ecstatically to her mother, when an event happened that threw +Abbotsmead into mourning and changed the bent even of her desires. + +One chilly evening after dinner, when she had retreated to the octagon +parlor, and was dreaming by the fireside in the dusk alone, Jonquil, +with visage white as a ghost, ushered in Mr. John Short. He had walked +over from Mitford Junction, in the absence of any vehicle to bring him +on, and was jaded and depressed, though with an air of forced composure. +As Jonquil withdrew to seek his master the lawyer advanced into the +firelight, and Bessie saw at once that he came on some sad errand. Her +grandfather had gone, she believed, to look after his favorite hunter, +which had met with a severe sprain a week ago; but she was not sure, for +he had been more and more restless for some time past, had taken to +walking at unaccustomed hours, to neglecting his correspondence, leaving +letters for days unopened, and betraying various other signs of a mind +unsettled and disturbed. It had appeared to Bessie that he was always in +a state of distressed expectancy, but what for she had no idea. The +appearance of Mr. John Short without previous notice suggested new +vexation connected with the lawsuit, but when she asked if he were again +the messenger of bad news, he startled her with a much more tragical +announcement. + +"I am sorry to say that I am, Miss Fairfax. Mr. Frederick has not lived +much at home of late years, but I fear that it will be a terrible shock +to his father to hear that he is lost," said Mr. John Short. + +"Lost!" echoed Bessie. "Lost! Oh where? Poor grandpapa!" + +"On the Danish coast. His yacht was wrecked in one of the gales of last +month, and all on board perished. The washing ashore of portions of the +wreck leaves no doubt of the disaster. The consul at the nearest port +communicated with the authorities in London, and the intelligence +reached me some days ago in a form that left little to hope. This +morning the worst was confirmed." + +Bessie sat down feeling inexpressibly sorrowful. "Grandpapa is out +somewhere--Jonquil is seeking him. Oh, how I wish I could be more of a +help and comfort to him!" she said, raising her eyes to the lawyer's +face. + +"It is a singular thing, Miss Fairfax, but your grandfather never seems +to want help or comfort like other men. He shuts himself up and +broods--just broods--when he is grieved or angry. He was very genial and +pleasant as a young man, but he had a disappointment of the affections +that quite soured him. I do not know that he ever made a friend of any +one but his sister Dorothy. They were on the Continent for a year after +that affair, and she died in Italy. He was a changed man when he came +home, and he married a woman of good family, but nobody was, perhaps, +more of a stranger to him than his own wife. It was generally remarked. +And he seemed to care as little for her children as he did for her. I +have often been surprised to see that he was indifferent whether they +came to Abbotsmead or not; yet the death of Mr. Geoffry, your father, +hurt him severely, and Mr. Frederick's will be no less a pain." + +"I wish I had not vexed him about my uncle Laurence's boys. We were +becoming good friends before," said Bessie. + +"Oh, the squire will not bear malice for that. He discriminates between +the generosity of your intention towards the children, and what he +probably mistook for a will to rule himself. He acted very perversely in +going out of the way." + +"Does my uncle Laurence know the news you bring?" + +"Yes, but he desired me to be the first medium of it. Jonquil is a long +while seeking his master." + +A very long while. So long that Bessie rang the bell to inquire, and +the little page answered it. The master was not come in, he said; they +had sent every way to find him. Bessie rose in haste, and followed by +Mr. John Short went along the passage to her grandfather's private room. +That was dark and empty, and so was the lobby by which it communicated +with the garden and the way to the stables. She was just turning back +when she bethought her to open the outer door, and there, at the foot of +the steps on the gravel-walk, lay the squire. She did not scream nor +cry, but ran down and helped to carry him in, holding his white head +tenderly. For a minute they laid him on the couch in the justice-room, +and servants came running with lights. + +"It is not death," said Mrs. Betts, peering close in the unconscious +face. "The fire is out here: we will move him to his chamber at once." + +As they raised him again one stiffened hand that clutched a letter +relaxed and dropped it. The lawyer picked it up and gave it to Miss +Fairfax. It was a week old--a sort of official letter recording the +wreck of the Foam and the loss of her crew. The suddenness and tragical +character of the news had been too much for the poor father. In the +shock of it he had apparently staggered into the air and had fallen +unconscious, smitten with paralysis. Such was the verdict of Mr. Wilson, +the general practitioner at Mitford, who arrived first upon the scene, +and Dr. Marks, the experienced physician from Norminster, who came in +the early morning, supported his opinion. The latter was a stranger to +the house, and before he left it he asked to see Miss Fairfax. + +The night had got over between waiting and watching, and Bessie had not +slept--had not even lain down to rest. She begged that Dr. Marks might +be shown to her parlor, and Mr. John Short appeared with him. Mrs. Betts +had put over her shoulders a white cachemire wrapper, and with her fair +hair loosened and flowing she sat by the window over-looking the fields +and the river where the misty morning was breaking slowly into sunshine. +Both the gentlemen were impressed by a certain power in her, a fortitude +and gentleness combined that are a woman's best strength in times of +trouble and difficulty. They could speak to her without fear of creating +fresh embarrassment as plainly as it was desirable that they should +speak, for she was manifestly aware of a responsibility devolving upon +her. + +"Though I apprehend no immediate danger, Miss Fairfax, it is to be +regretted that this sad moment finds Mr. Fairfax at variance with his +only surviving son," said Dr. Marks. "Mr. Laurence Fairfax ought to be +here. It is probable that his father has not made a final disposition of +his affairs; indeed, I understand from Mr. John Short that he has not +done so." + +"Oh, does that matter now?" said Bessie. + +"Mr. Fairfax's recovery might be promoted if his mind were quite at +ease. If he should wish to transact any business with his lawyer, you +may be required to speak of your own wishes. Do not waste the favorable +moment. The stroke has not been severe, and I have good hopes of +restoration, but when the patient is verging on seventy we can never be +sure." + +Dr. Marks went away, leaving Mr. Wilson to watch the case. Mr. John +Short then explained to Bessie the need there was that she should be +prepared for any event: a rally of consciousness was what he hoped for, +perfect, whether tending to recovery or the precursor of dissolution. +For he knew of no will that Mr. Frederick had made, and he knew that +since the discovery of Mr. Laurence's marriage the squire had destroyed +the last will of his own making, and that he had not even drawn out a +rough scheme of his further intentions. The entailed estates were of +course inalienable--those must pass to his son and his son's son--but +there were houses and lands besides over which he had the power of +settlement. Bessie listened, but found it very hard to give her mind to +these considerations, and said so. + +"My uncle Laurence is the person to talk to," she suggested. + +"Probably he will arrive before the day is over, but you are to be +thought of, you are to be provided for, Miss Fairfax." + +"Oh, I don't care for myself at all," said Bessie. + +"The more need, then, that some one else should care for you," replied +Mr. John Short. + +Inquirers daily besieged Abbotsmead for news of the squire. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax came over, and Mr. John Short stayed on, expecting his +opportunity, while slowly the old man recovered up to a certain point. +But his constitution was permanently weakened and his speech indistinct. +Jonquil, Macky, and Mrs. Betts were his nurses, and the first person +that he was understood to ask for was Elizabeth. Bessie was so glad of +his recollection that she went to him with a bright face--the first +bright face that had come about his bed yet--and he was evidently +pleased. She took up one of his hands and stroked and kissed it, and +knelt down to bring herself nearer to him, all with that affectionate +kindness that his life had missed ever since his sister Dorothy died. + +"You are better, grandpapa; you will soon be up and out of doors again," +said she cheerfully. + +He gave her no answer, but lay composed with his eyes resting upon her. +It was doubtful whether the cause of his illness had recurred to his +weakened memory, for he had not attempted to speak of it. She went on to +tell him what friends and neighbors had been to ask after his +health--Mr. Chiverton, Sir Edward Lucas, Mr. Oliver Smith--and what +letters to the same purport she had received from Lady Latimer, Lady +Angleby, Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and others, to which she had replied. He +acknowledged each item of her information with a glance, but he made no +return inquiries. + +Mr. Chiverton had called that day, and the form in which he carried +intelligence home to his wife was, "Poor Fairfax will not die of this +bout, but he has got his first warning." + +Mrs. Chiverton was sorry, but she did not refrain from speculating on +how Miss Fairfax would be influenced in her fortunes by the triple +catastrophe of her uncle Laurence's marriage, her uncle Frederick's +death, and her grandfather's impending demise. "I suppose if Mr. +Laurence were unmarried, as all the world believed him to be, she would +stand now as the greatest prospective heiress in this part of the +county. If it was her fortune Mr. Cecil Burleigh wanted, he has had a +deliverance." + +"I am far from sure that Burleigh thinks so," returned Mr. Chiverton +significantly. + +"Oh, I imagined that projected marriage was one of convenience, a family +compact." + +"In the first instance so it was. But the young lady's rosy simplicity +caught Burleigh's fancy, and it is still in the power of Mr. Fairfax to +make his granddaughter rich." + +Whether Mr. Fairfax would make his granddaughter rich was debated in +circles where it was not a personal interest, but of course it was +discussed with much livelier vivacity where it was. Lady Angleby +expressed a confident expectation that as Miss Fairfax had been latterly +brought up in anticipation of heiress-ship, her grandfather would endow +her with a noble fortune, and Miss Burleigh, with ulterior views for her +brother, ventured to hope the same. But Mr. Fairfax was in no haste to +set his house in order. He saw his son Laurence for a few minutes twice, +but gave him no encouragement to linger at Abbotsmead, and his reply to +Mr. John Short on the only occasion when he openly approached the +subject of will-making was, "There is time enough yet." + +The household was put into mourning, but as there was no bringing home +of the dead and no funeral, the event of the eldest son's death passed +with little outward mark. Elizabeth was her grandfather's chief +companion in-doors, and she was cheerful for his sake under +circumstances that were tryingly oppressive. To keep up to her duty she +rode daily, rain or fair, and towards the month's end there were many +soft, wet days when all the wolds were wrapt in mist. People watched her +go by often, with Joss at Janey's heels, and Ranby following behind, and +said they were sorry for Miss Fairfax; it was very sad for so young a +girl to have to bear, unsupported, the burden of her grandfather's +declining old age. For the squire was still consistent in his obstinacy +in refusing to be gracious to his son and his son's wife and children, +and Bessie, on her uncle Laurence's advice, refrained from mentioning +them any more. Old Jonquil alone had greater courage. + +One evening the squire, after lying long silent, broke out with, "Poor +Fred is gone!" the first spontaneous allusion to his loss that he had +made. + +Jonquil hastened to him. "My dear master, my dear master!" he lamented. +"Oh, sir, you have but one son now! forgive him, and let the little boys +come home--for your own sake, dear master." + +"They will come home, as you call it, when I follow poor Fred. My son +Laurence stands in no need of forgiveness--he has done me no wrong. +Strange women and children would be in my way; they are better where +they are." Thus had the squire once answered every plea on behalf of his +son Geoffry. Jonquil remembered very well, and held his peace, sighing +as one without hope. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +_DIPLOMATIC._ + + +Bessie Fairfax gave up her visit to the Forest of her own accord in her +pitying reluctance to leave her grandfather. She wrote to Lady Latimer, +and to her mother more at length. They were disappointed, but not +surprised. + +"Now they will prove what she is--a downright good girl, not an atom of +selfishness about her," said Mr. Carnegie to his wife with tender +triumph. + +"Yes, God bless her! Bessie will wear well in trouble, but I am very +wishful to see her, and hear her own voice about that gentleman Lady +Latimer talked of." Lady Latimer had made a communication to the +doctor's wife respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh. + +Mr. Carnegie had nothing to advise. He felt tolerably sure that Bessie +would tell her mother every serious matter that befell her, and as she +had not mentioned this he drew the inference that it was not serious. + +The first warm days of summer saw Mr. Fairfax out again, walking in the +garden with a stick and the support of his granddaughter's shoulder. She +was an excellent and patient companion, he said. Indeed, Bessie could +forget herself entirely in another's want, and since this claim for care +and helpfulness had been made upon her the tedium of life oppressed her +no more. It was thus that Mr. Cecil Burleigh next saw her again. He had +taken his seat in the House, and had come down to Brentwood for a few +days; and when he called to visit his old friend, Jonquil sent him round +to the south terrace, where Mr. Fairfax was walking with Bessie in the +sun. + +In her black dress Bessie looked taller, more womanly, and there was a +sweet peace and kindness in her countenance, which, combined with a +sudden blush at the sight of him, caused him to discover in her new +graces and a more touching beauty than he had been able to discern +before. Mr. Fairfax was very glad to see him, and interested to hear all +he had to tell. Since he had learnt to appreciate at their real worth +his granddaughter's homely virtues, his desire for her union with this +gentleman had revived. He had the highest opinion of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's disposition, and he would be thankful to put her in his +keeping--a jewel worth having. + +Presently Bessie was released from her attendance, and the visitor took +her place: her grandfather wished to speak to Mr. Cecil Burleigh alone. +He began by reverting to the old project of their marriage, and was +easily satisfied with an assurance that the gentleman desired it with +all his heart. Miss Julia Gardiner's wedding had not yet taken place. +She had been delicate through the winter, and Mr. Brotherton had +succumbed to a sharp attack of gout in the early spring. So there had +been delay after delay, but the engagement continued in force, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh had not repeated his indecorous visit. He believed that +he was quite weaned from that temptation. + +Mr. Fairfax gave him every encouragement to renew his siege to +Elizabeth, and promised him a dower with her if he succeeded that should +compensate for her loss of position as heiress of Abbotsmead. It was an +understood thing that Mr. Cecil Burleigh could not afford to marry a +scantily-portioned wife, and a whisper got abroad that Miss Fairfax was +to prosper in her fortunes as she behaved, and to be rich or poor +according as she married to please her grandfather or persevered in +refusing his choice. If Bessie heard it, she behaved as though she heard +it not. She went on being good to the old man with a most complete and +unconscious self-denial--read to him, wrote for him, walked and drove +with him at his will and pleasure, which began to be marked with all the +exacting caprice of senility. And the days, weeks, months slipped round +again to golden September. Monotony abridges time, and, looking behind +her, Bessie could hardly believe that it was over a year ago since she +came home from France. + +One day her grandfather observed or imagined that she looked paler than +her wont. He had a letter in his hand, which he gave to her, saying, +"You were disappointed of your visit to Fairfield in the spring, +Elizabeth: would you like to go now? Lady Latimer renews her invitation, +and I will spare you for a week or two." + +Oh, the surprise and delight of this unexpected bounty! Bessie blushed +with gratitude. She was the most grateful soul alive, and for the +smallest mercies. Lady Latimer wrote that she should not find Fairfield +dull, for Dora Meadows was on a long stay there, and she expected her +friend Mr. Logger, and probably other visitors. Mr. Fairfax watched his +granddaughter narrowly through the perusal of the document. There could +be no denial that she was eagerness itself to go, but whether she had +any motive deeper than the renewal of love with the family amidst which +she had been brought up, he could not ascertain. There was a great +jealousy in his mind concerning that young Musgrave of whose visit to +Bayeux Mr. Cecil Burleigh had told him, and a settled purpose to hinder +Elizabeth from what he would have called an unequal match. At the same +time that he would not force her will, he would have felt fully +justified in thwarting it; but he had a hope that the romance of her +childish memories would fade at contact with present realities. Lady +Latimer had suggested this possible solution of a difficulty, and Lady +Angleby had supported her, and had agreed that it was time now to give +Mr. Cecil Burleigh a new opportunity of urging his suit, and the coy +young lady a chance of comparing him with those whom her affection and +imagination had invested with greater attractions. There was feminine +diplomacy in this, and the joyful accident that appeared to Bessie a +piece of spontaneous kindness and good-fortune was the result of a +well-laid and well-matured plan. However, as she remained in blissful +ignorance of the design, there was no shadow forecast upon her pleasure, +and she prepared for a fortnight's absence with satisfaction unalloyed. + +"You are quite sure you will not miss me, grandpapa--quite sure you can +do without me?" she affectionately pleaded. + +"Yes, yes, I can do without you. I shall miss you, and shall be glad to +see you home again, but you have deserved your holiday, and Lady Latimer +might feel hurt if I refused to let you go." + +Before leaving Woldshire, Bessie went to Norminster. The old house in +Minster Court was more delightful to her than ever. There was another +little boy in the nursery now, called Richard, after his grandfather. +Bessie had to seek Mrs. Laurence Fairfax at the Manor House, where Lady +Eden was celebrating the birthday of her eldest son. She was seated in +the garden conversing with a young Mrs. Tindal, amidst a group of +mothers besides, whose children were at play on the grass. Mr. Laurence +Fairfax was a man of philosophic benevolence, and when advances were +made to his wife (who had a sense and cleverness beyond anything that +could have been expected in anything so bewilderingly pretty) by ladies +of the rank to which he had raised her, he met them with courtesy, and +she had now two friends in Lady Eden and Mrs. Tindal, whose society she +especially enjoyed, because they all had babies and nearly of an age. +Bessie told her grandfather where and in what company she had found her +little cousins and their mother. The squire was silent, but he was not +affronted. No results, however, came of her information, and she left +Abbotsmead the next morning without any further reference to the family +in Minster Court. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +_SUNDAY MORNING AT BEECHHURST_. + + +Bessie Fairfax arrived at Fairfield late on Saturday night, and had the +warmest welcome from Lady Latimer. They were only four at dinner. Mr. +Logger and Dora Meadows made up the quartette, and as she was tired with +her journey, and the conversation both at table and in the drawing-room +was literary and political, she was thankful to be dismissed to her room +at an early hour. It was difficult to believe that she was actually +within two miles of home. She could see nothing from her window for the +night-dews, and she woke on Sunday morning to a thick Forest mist; but +by nine o'clock it had cleared, and it was a sumptuous day. She was full +of happy excitement, and proposed to set off betimes and walk to church. +Lady Latimer, in her most complacent humor, bade her do exactly what she +liked: there was Dora to accompany her if she walked, or there was room +in the carriage that would convey herself and Mr. Logger. + +The young ladies preferred to walk. Bessie had ridden that road with Mr. +Carnegie many and many a time, but had walked it seldom, for there were +short cuts through the brushwood and heather that she was wont to pursue +in her gypsy excursions with the doctor's boys. But these were not paths +for Sunday. She recollected going along that road with Lady Latimer and +her grandfather sorely against her inclination, and returning by the +same way with her grandfather and Mr. Wiley, when the rector, +admonishing her on the virtue of humility, roused her pride and ire by +his reminder of the lowly occupations to which her early patronesses had +destined her. She laughed to herself, but she blushed too, for the +recollection was not altogether agreeable. + +As they drew near to Beechhurst one familiar spot after another called +her attention. Then the church-bells began to ring for morning service, +and they were at the entrance of the town-street, with its little +bow-windowed shops shut up, and its pretty thatched cottages half buried +in flowery gardens that made sweet the air. Bessie's heart beat fast and +faster as she recognized one old acquaintance after another. Some looked +at her and looked again, and did not know her, but most of those she +remembered had a nod, a smile, or a kind word for her, and she smiled on +all. They all seemed like friends. Now Miss Wort rushed out of her gate +and rushed back, something necessary forgotten--gloves or prayer-book +probably. Then the school-children swarmed forth like bees from a hive, +loudly exhorted to peaceable behavior by jolly Miss Buff, who was too +much absorbed in her duty of marshalling them in order to walk the +twenty yards to church to see her young friend at first, but cried out +in a gust of enthusiasm when she did see her, "Oh, you dear little +Bessie! who would have thought it? I never heard you were coming. What a +surprise for them all! They will be delighted." + +"I am staying at Fairfield," said Bessie. "There had been so many +disappointments before that I would not promise again. But here I am, +and it seems almost too good to be true." + +"Here you are, and a picture of health and beauty; you don't mind my +telling you that? Nobody can say Woldshire disagrees with you." + +They walked on. They came in sight of the "King's Arms"--of the doctor's +house. "There is dear old Jack in the porch," said Bessie; and Miss +Buff, with a kind, sympathetic nod, turned off to the church gate and +left her. Jack marched down the path and Willie followed. Then Mrs. +Carnegie appeared, hustling dilatory Tom before her, and leading by the +hand Polly, a little white-frocked girl of nine. As they issued into the +road Bessie stepped more quickly forward. The boys stared at the elegant +young lady in mourning, and even her mother gazed for one moment with +grave, unrecognizing scrutiny. It was but for one moment, and then the +flooded blue eyes and tremulous lips revealed who it was. + +"Why, it is our Bessie!" cried Jack, and sprang at her with a shout, +quite forgetful of Sunday sobriety. + +"Oh, Jack! But you are taller than I am now," said she, arresting his +rough embrace and giving her hand to her mother. They kissed each other, +and, deferring all explanations, Bessie whispered, "May I come home with +you after service and spend the day?" + +"Yes, yes--father will be in then. He has had to go to Mrs. Christie: +Mr. Robb has been attending her lately, but the moment she is worse +nothing will pacify her but seeing her old doctor." + +They crossed the road to the church in a group. Mr. Phipps came up at +the moment, grotesque and sharp as ever. "Cinderella!" exclaimed he, +lifting his hat with ceremonious politeness. "But where is the prince?" +looking round and feigning surprise. + +"Oh, the prince has not come yet," said Bessie with her beautiful blush. + +Mrs. Carnegie emitted a gentle sound, calling everybody to order, and +they entered the church. Bessie halted at the Carnegie pew, but the +children filled it, and as she knew those boys were only kept quiet +during service by maternal control, she passed on to the Fairfield pew +in the chancel, where Dora Meadows was already ensconced. Lady Latimer +presently arrived alone: Mr. Logger had committed himself to an opinion +that it was a shame to waste such a glorious morning in church, and had +declined, at the last moment, to come. He preferred to criticise +preachers without hearing them. + +The congregation was much fuller than Bessie remembered it formerly. +Beechhurst had reconciled itself to its pastor, and had found him not so +very bad after all. There was no other church within easy reach, divine +worship could not, with safety, be neglected altogether, and the +aversion with which he was regarded did not prove invincible. It was the +interest of the respectable church-people to get over it, and they had +got over it, pleading in extenuation of their indulgence that, in the +first place, the rector was a fixture, and in the second that his want +of social tact was his misfortune rather than his fault, and a clergyman +might have even worse defects than that. Lady Latimer, Admiral Parkins, +Mr. Musgrave, and Miss Wort had supported him in his office from the +first, and now Mr. Phipps and Mr. Carnegie did not systematically absent +themselves from his religious ministrations. + +The programme of the service, so to speak, was also considerably +enlarged since Bessie Fairfax went away. There was a nice-looking curate +whom she recollected as one of the rector's private pupils--Mr. Duffer. +There were twelve men and boys in white raiment, and Miss Buff, +presiding at the new organ with more than her ancient courage, executed +ambitious music that caused strangers and visitors to look up at the +loft and inquire who the organist was. Players and singers were not +always agreed, but no one could say otherwise than that, for a country +church, the performance was truly remarkable; and in the _Hampton +Chronicle_, when an account was given of special services, gratifying +mention was invariably made of Miss Buff as having presided at the organ +with her usual ability. Bessie hardly knew whether to laugh or cry as +she listened. Lady Latimer wore a countenance of ineffable patience. She +had fought the ground inch by inch with the choral party in the +congregation, and inch by inch had lost it. The responses went first, +then the psalms, and this prolonged the service so seriously that twice +she walked out of the church during the pause before sermon; but being +pastorally condoled with on the infirmities inseparable from years which +prevented her sitting through the discourse, she warmly denied the +existence of any such infirmities, and the following Sunday she stayed +to the end. For the latest innovation Beechhurst was indebted to the +young curate, who had a round full voice. He would intone the prayers. +By this time my lady was tired of clerical vanities, and only remarked, +with a little disdain in her voice, that Mr. Duffer's proper place was +Whitchester Cathedral. + +When service was over Bessie whispered to her hostess the engagement she +had made for herself during the rest of the day. My lady gloomed for an +instant, and then assented, but Bessie ought to have asked her leave. +The two elder boys were waiting at the church-door as Bessie came out, +and snatched each a daintily gloved hand to conduct her home. + +"Mother has gone on first to warn father," Jack announced; and missing +other friends--the Musgraves, Mittens, and Semples, to wit--she allowed +herself to be led in triumph across the road and up the garden-walk, the +garden gay as ever with late-blooming roses and as fragrant of +mignonette. + +When she reached the porch she was all trembling. There was her mother, +rather flushed, with her bonnet-strings untied, and her father appearing +from the dining-parlor, where the table was spread for the family +dinner, just as of old. + +"This is as it should be; and how are you, my dear?" said Mr. Carnegie, +drawing her affectionately to him. + +"Is there any need to ask, Thomas? Could she have looked bonnier if she +had never left us?" said his wife fondly. + +Blushing, beaming, laughing, Bessie came in. How small the house seemed, +and how full! There was young Christie's picture of her smiling above +the mantelpiece, there was the doctor's old bureau and the old leathern +chair. Bridget and the younger branches appeared, some of them shy of +Bessie, and Totty particularly, who was the baby when she went away. +They crowded the stairs, the narrow hall. "Make room there!" cried +Jack, imperative amidst the fuss; and her mother conveyed the trembling +girl up to her own dear old triangular nest under the thatch. The books, +the watery miniatures, the Oriental bowl and dishes were all in their +places. "Oh, mother, how happy I am to see it again!" cried she. And +they had a few tears to wink away, and with them the fancied +forgetfulnesses of the absent years. + +It was a noisy dinner in comparison with the serene dulness Bessie was +used to, but not noisier than it was entitled to be with seven children +at table, ranging from four to fourteen, for Sunday was the one day of +the week when Mr. Carnegie dined with his children, and it was his good +pleasure to dine with them all. So many bright faces and white pinafores +were a sweet spectacle to Bessie, who was so merry that Totty was quite +tamed by the time the dessert of ripe fruit came; and would sit on +"Sissy's" lap, and apply juicy grapes to "Sissy's" lips--then as "Sissy" +opened them, suddenly popped the purple globes into her own little +mouth, which made everybody laugh, and was evidently a good old family +joke. + +Dinner over, Mr. Carnegie adjourned to his study, where his practice was +to make up for short and often disturbed nights by an innocent nap on +Sunday afternoon. "We will go into the drawing-room, Bessie, as we +always do. Totty says a hymn with the others now, and will soon begin to +say her catechism, God bless her!" Thus Mrs. Carnegie. + +Bessie had now a boy clinging to either arm. They put her down in a +corner of the sofa, their mother occupying the other, and Totty throned +between them. There was a little desultory talk and seeking of places, +and then the four elder children, standing round the table, read a +chapter, verse for verse. Then followed the recitation of the catechism +in that queer, mechanical gabble that Bessie recollected so well. "If +you stop to think you are sure to break down," was still the warning. +After that Jack said the collect and epistle for the day, and Willie and +Tom said the gospel, and the lesser ones said psalms and hymns and +spiritual songs; and by the time this duty was accomplished Bridget had +done dinner, and arrived in holiday gown and ribbons to resume her +charge. In a few minutes Bessie was left alone with her mother. The +boys went to consult a favorite pear-tree in the orchard, and as Jack +was seen an hour or two later perched aloft amongst its gnarled branches +with a book, it is probable that he chose that retreat to pursue +undisturbed his seafaring studies by means of Marryat's novels. + +"I like to keep up old-fashioned customs, Bessie," said her mother. "I +know the dear children have been taught their duty, and if they forget +it sometimes there is always a hope they may return. Mrs. Wiley and Lady +Latimer have asked for them to attend the Bible classes, but their +father was strongly against it; and I think, with him, that if they are +not quite so cleverly taught at home, there is a feeling in having +learnt at their mother's knees which will stay by them longer. It is +growing quite common for young ladies in Beechhurst to have classes in +the evening for servant-girls and others, but I cannot say I favor them: +the girls get together gossipping and stopping out late, and the +teachers are so set up with notions of superior piety that they are +quite spoilt. And they do break out in the ugliest hats and +clothes--faster than the gayest of the young ladies who don't pretend to +be so over-righteous. You have not fallen into that way, dear Bessie?" + +"Oh no. I do not even teach in the Sunday-school at Kirkham. It is very +small. Mr. Forbes does not encourage the attendance of children whose +parents are able to instruct them themselves." + +"I am glad to hear it. I do not approve of this system of relieving +parents of their private duties. Mr. Wiley carries it to excess, and +will not permit any poor woman to become a member of the +coal-and-clothing club who does not send her children to Sunday-school: +the doctor has refused his subscription in consequence, and divides it +amongst the recusants. For a specimen of Miss Myra Robb's evening-class +teaching we have a girl who provokes Bridget almost past her patience: +she cannot say her duty to her neighbor in the catechism, and her +practice of it is so imperfect that your father begs me, the next time I +engage a scullery-wench, to ascertain that she is not infected with the +offensive pious conceit that distinguishes poor Eliza. Our own dear +children are affectionate and good, on the whole. Jack has made up his +mind to the sea, and Willie professes that he will be a doctor, like +his father; he could not be better. They are both at Hampton School yet, +but we have them over for Sunday while the summer weather continues." + +When Bessie had heard the family news and all about the children, she +had to tell her own, and very interesting her mother found it. She had +to answer numerous questions concerning Mr. Laurence Fairfax, his wife +and boys, and then Mrs. Carnegie inquired about that fine gentleman of +whose pretensions to Miss Fairfax Lady Latimer had warned her. Bessie +blushed rather warmly, and told what facts there were to tell, and she +now learnt for the first time that her wooing was a matter of +arrangement and policy. The information was not gratifying, to judge +from the hot fire of her face and the tone of her rejoinder. "Mr. Cecil +Burleigh is a fascinating person--so I am assured--but I don't think I +was the least bit in love," she averred with energetic scorn. Her mother +smiled, and did not say so much in reply as Bessie thought she might. + +Presently they went into the orchard, and insensibly the subject was +renewed. Bessie remembered afterward saying many things that she never +meant to say. She mentioned how she had first seen Mr. Cecil Burleigh at +the Fairfield wedding devoted to a most lovely young lady whom she had +seen again at Ryde, and had known as Miss Julia Gardiner. "I thought +they were engaged," she said. "I am sure they were lovers for a long +while." + +"You were under that impression throughout?" Mrs. Carnegie suggested +interrogatively. + +"Yes. From the day I saw them together at Ryde I had no other thought. +He was grandpapa's friend, grandpapa forwarded his election for +Norminster, and as I was the young lady of the house at Abbotsmead, it +was not singular that he should be kind and attentive to me, was it? I +am quite certain that he was as little in love with me as I was with +him, though he did invite me to be his wife. I felt very much insulted +that he should suppose me such a child as not to know that he did not +care for me; it was not in that way he had courted Miss Julia Gardiner." + +"It is a much commoner thing than you imagine for a man to be unable to +marry as his heart would dictate. But he is not for that to remain +single all his life, is he?" said Mrs. Carnegie. + +"Perhaps not; I should respect him more if he did. I will remain single +all my life unless I find somebody to love me first and best," said +Bessie with the airy assurance of the romantic age. + +"Well, dear, and I trust you may, for affection is the great sweetener +of life, and it must be hard getting along without it. But here is +father." + +Mr. Carnegie, his nap over, had seen his wife and Bessie from the +study-window. He drew Bessie's hand through his arm and asked what they +were so earnest in debate upon. Not receiving an immediate answer, he +went on to remark to his wife that their little Bessie was not spoilt by +her life among her high-born friends. "For anything I can see, she is +our dear Bessie still." + +"So she is, Thomas--self-will and her own opinion and all," replied her +mother, looking fondly in her face. + +Bessie laughed and blushed. "You never expected perfection in me, nor +too much docility," she said. + +The doctor patted her hand, and told her she was good enough for human +nature's daily companionship. Then he began to give her news of their +neighbors. "It falls out fortunately that it is holiday-time. Young +Christie is here: you know him? He told us how he had met you at some +grand house in the winter, where he went to paint a picture: the lady +had too little expression to please him, and he was not satisfied with +his work. She was, fortunately, and her husband too, for he had a +hundred pounds for the picture--like coining money his father says. He +is very good to the old people, and makes them share his prosperity--a +most excellent son." Bessie listened for another name of an excellent +son. It came. "And Harry Musgrave is at Brook for a whiff of country +air. That young man works and plays very hard: he must take heed not to +overdo it." + +"Then I shall see all my friends while I am in the Forest," said Bessie, +very glad. + +"Yes, and as pleased they will be to see you. Mother, Bessie might walk +to Brook with me before tea. They will be uncommonly gratified, and she +will get over to us many another day," Mr. Carnegie proposed. + +"Yes, Thomas, if it will not overtire her." + +"Oh, nothing overtires me," said Bessie. "Let us go by Great-Ash Ford." + +Before they started the doctor had a word or two with his wife alone. He +wanted to hear what she had made out from dear Bessie herself respecting +that grand gentleman, the member of Parliament, who by Lady Latimer's +account was her suitor some time ago and still. + +"I am puzzled, Thomas, and that is the truth--girls are so deep," Mrs. +Carnegie said. + +"Too deep sometimes for their own comprehension--eh? At any rate, she is +not moping and pining. She is as fresh as a rose, and her health and +spirits are all right. I don't remember when I have felt so thankful as +at the sight of her bonny face to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +_SUNDAY EVENING AT BROOK._ + + +That still Sunday afternoon across the glowing heath to Great-Ash Ford +was most enchanting. Every step of the way was a pleasure to Bessie. And +when they came to the ford, whom should they see resting under the shade +of the trees but Harry Musgrave and young Christie? Harry's attitude was +somewhat weary. He leant on one elbow, recumbent upon the turf, and with +flat pebbles dexterously thrown made ducks and drakes upon the surface +of the shallow pool where the cattle drank. Young Christie was talking +with much earnestness--propounding some argument apparently--and neither +observed the approach of Mr. Carnegie and his companion until they were +within twenty paces. Then a sudden flush overspread Harry's face. "It +_is_ Bessie Fairfax!" said he, and sprang to his feet and advanced to +meet her. Bessie was rosy too, and her eyes dewy bright. Young Christie, +viewing her as an artist, called her to himself the sweetest and most +womanly of women, and admired her the more for her kind looks at his +friend. Harry's _ennui_ was quite routed. + +"We were walking to Brook--your mother will give us a cup of tea, +Harry?" said Mr. Carnegie. + +Harry was walking home to Brook too, with Christie for company; his +mother would be only too proud to entertain so many good friends. They +went along by the rippling water together, and entered the familiar +garden by the wicket into the wood. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave were out there +on the green slope under the beeches, awaiting their son and his friend, +and lively were their exclamations of joy when they saw who their other +visitors were. + +"Did I not tell you little Bessie was at church, Harry?" cried his +father, turning to him with an air of triumph. + +"And he would not believe it. I thought myself it must be a mistake," +said Mrs. Musgrave. + +Bessie was touched to the heart by their cordial welcome. She made a +most favorable impression. Mr. Musgrave thought her as handsome a young +lady as a man could wish to look at, and his wife said her good heart +could be seen in her face. + +Bessie felt, nevertheless, rather more formally at home than in her +childhood, except with her old comrade Harry. Between them there was not +a moment's shyness. They were as friendly, as intimate as formerly, +though with a perceptible difference of manner. Bessie had the simple +graces of happy maidenhood, and Harry had the courteous reserve of good +society to which his university honors and pleasant humor had introduced +him. He was a very acceptable companion wherever he went, because his +enjoyment of life was so thorough as to be almost infectious. He must be +a dull dog, indeed, who did not cheer up in the sunshine of Musgrave's +presence: that was his popular character, and it agreed with Bessie's +reminiscences of him; but Harry, like other young men of great hopes and +small fortunes, had his hours of shadow that Christie knew of and others +guessed at. At tea the talk fell on London amusements and bachelor-life +in chambers. + +"As for Christie, prudent old fogy that he is, what can he know of our +miseries?" said Harry with assumed ruefulness "He has a mansion in +Cheyne Walk and a balcony looking over the river, and a vigilant +housekeeper who allows no latch-key and turns off the gas at eleven. She +gives him perfect little dinners, and makes him too comfortable by half: +we poor apprentices to law lodge and fare very rudely." + +"He has the air of being well done to, which is more than could be said +for you when first you arrived at home, Harry," remarked his mother with +what struck Bessie as a long and wistful gaze. + +"Too much smell of the midnight oil is poison to country lungs--mind +what I tell you," said the doctor, emphasizing his words with a grave +nod at the young man. + +"He ought to be content with less of his theatres and his operas and +supper-parties if he will read and write so furiously. A young fellow +can't combine the lives of a man of study and a man of leisure without +stealing too many hours from his natural rest. But I talk in vain--talk +you, Mr. Carnegie," said Christie with earnestness. + +"A man must work, and work hard, now-a-days, if he means to do or be +anything," said Harry defiantly. + +"It is the pace that kills," said the doctor. "The mischief is, that you +ardent young fellows never know when to stop. And in public life, my +lad, there is many a one comes to acknowledge that he has made more +haste than good speed." + +Harry sank back in his chair with laughing resignation; it was too bad, +he said, to talk of him to his face so dismally. Bessie Fairfax was +looking at him, her eyebrows raised, and fancying she saw a change; he +was certainly not so brown as he used to be, nor so buoyant, nor so +animated. But it would have perplexed her to define what the change she +fancied was. Conscious of her observation, Harry dissembled a minute, +then pushed back his chair, and invited her to come away to the old +sitting-room, where the evening sun shone. No one offered to follow +them; they were permitted to go alone. + +The sitting-room looked a trifle more dilapidated, but was otherwise +unaltered, and was Harry's own room still, by the books, pens, ink, and +paper on the table. Being by themselves, silence ensued. Bessie sadly +wondered whether anything was really going wrong with her beloved Harry, +and he knew that she was wondering. Then she remembered what young +Christie had said at Castlemount of his being occasionally short of +money, and would have liked to ask. But when she had reflected a moment +she did not dare. Their boy-and-girl days, their days of plain, +outspoken confidence, were for ever past. That one year of absence spent +by him in London, by her at Abbotsmead, had insensibly matured the +worldly knowledge of both, and without a word spoken each recognized the +other's position, but without diminution of their ancient kindness. + +This recognition, and certain possible, even probable, results had been +anticipated before Bessie was suffered to come into the Forest. Lady +Angleby had said to Mr. Fairfax: "Entrust her to Lady Latimer for a +short while. Granting her humble friends all the virtues that humanity +adorns itself with, they must want some of the social graces. Those +people always dispense more or less with politeness in their familiar +intercourse. Now, Cecil is exquisitely polite, and Miss Fairfax has a +fine, delicate feeling. She cannot but make comparisons and draw +conclusions. Solid worth apart, the charm of manner is with us. I shall +expect decisive consequences from this visit." + +What Bessie actually discerned was that all the old tenderness that had +blessed her childhood, and that gives the true sensitive touch, was +still abiding: father, mother, Harry--dearest of all who were most dear +to her--had not lost one whit of it. And judged by the eye, where love +looked out, Harry's great frame, well knit and suppled by athletic +sports, had a dignity, and his irregular features a beauty, that pleased +her better than dainty, high-bred elegance. He had to push his way over +the obstacles of poverty and obscure birth, and she was a young lady of +family and fortune, but she looked up to him with as meek a humility as +ever she had done when they were friends and comrades together, before +her vicissitudes began and her exalted kinsfolk reclaimed her. Woldshire +had not acquainted her with his equal. All the world never would. + +Their conversation was opened at last with a surprised smile at finding +themselves where they were--in the bare sitting-room at Brook, with the +western light shining on them through the vine-trellised lattices after +four years of growth and experience. How often had Bessie made a +picture in her day-dreams of their next meeting here since she went +away! In this hour, in this instant, love was new-born in both their +hearts. They saw it, each in the other's eyes--heard it, each in the +other's voice. Tears came with Bessie's sudden smile. She trembled and +sighed and laughed, and said she did not know why she was so foolish. +Harry was foolish too as he made her some indistinct plea about being so +glad. And a red spot burned on his own cheek as he dwelt on her +loveliness. Once more they were silent, then both at once began to talk +of people and things indifferent, coming gradually round to what +concerned themselves. + +Harry Musgrave spoke of his friend Christie and his profession +relatively to his own: "Christie has distinguished himself already. +There are houses in London where the hostess has a pride in bringing +forward young talent. Christie got the _entrée_ of one of the best at +the beginning of his career, and is quite a favorite. His gentleness is +better than conventional polish, but he has taken that well too. He is a +generous little fellow, and deserves the good luck that has befallen +him. His honors are budding betimes. That is the joy of an artistic +life--you work, but it is amongst flowers. Christie will be famous +before he is thirty, and he is easy in his circumstances now: he will +never be more, never rich; he is too open-handed for that. But I shall +have years and years to toil and wait," Harry concluded with a +melancholy, humorous fall in his voice, half mocking at himself and half +pathetic, and the same was his countenance. + +All the more earnestly did Bessie brighten: "You knew that, Harry, when +you chose the law. But if you work amongst bookworms and cobwebs, don't +you play in the sunshine?" + +"Now and then, Bessie, but there will be less and less of that if I +maintain my high endeavors." + +"You will, Harry, you must! You will never be satisfied else. But there +is no sentiment in the law--it is dreary, dreary." + +"No sentiment in the law? It is a laborious calling, but many honorable +men follow it; and are not the lawyers continually helping those to +right who suffer wrong?" + +"That is not the vulgar idea of them, is it? But I believe it is what +you will always strive to do, Harry." Bessie spoke with pretty +eagerness. She feared that she might have seemed to contemn Harry's +vocation, and she hastened to make amends. Harry understood her +perfectly, and had the impudence to laugh at her quite in his old boyish +way. A little confused--also in the old way--she ran on: "I have seen +the judges in their scarlet robes and huge white wigs on a hot July +Sunday attending service in Norminster Cathedral. I tried to attire you +so, but my imagination failed. I don't believe you will ever be a judge, +Harry." + +"That is a discouraging prediction, Bessie, if I am to be a lawyer. I do +a little in this way," he said, handling a famous review that lay on the +table. "May I send it to you when there is a paper of mine in it?" + +"Oh yes; I should like it so much! I should be so interested!" said +Bessie fervently. "We take the _Times_ at Abbotsmead, and _Blackwood_ +and the old _Quarterly_, but not that. I have seen it at my uncle +Laurence's house, and Lady Latimer has it. I saw it in the Fairfield +drawing-room last night: is there anything of yours here, Harry?" + +"Yes, this is mine--a rather dry nut for you. But occasionally I +contribute a light-literature article." + +"Oh, I must tell my lady. She and Mr. Logger were differing over that +very paper, and ascribing it to half a dozen great, wise people in +turn." + +Harry laughed: "Pray, then, don't confess for me. The arguments will +lose half their force if she learn what a tyro wrote it." + +"No, no, she will be delighted to know--she adores talent. Besides, Mr. +Logger told her that the cleverest articles were written by sprightly +young men fresh from college. Have you paid your respects to her yet? +She told me with a significant little _moue_ that you had condescended +to call upon her at Easter." + +"I propose to pay my respects in company with Christie to-morrow. She is +a grand old lady; and what cubs we were, Bessie, to throw her kindness +in her face before! How angry you were!" + +"You were afraid that her patronage might be a trespass on your +independence. It was a mistake in the right direction, if it was a +mistake at all. Poor Mr. Logger is called a toady because he loves to +visit at the comfortable houses of rich great widow ladies, but I am +sure they love to have him. Lady Latimer does not approve you any the +less for not being eager to accept her invitations. You know I was fond +of her--I looked up to her more than anybody. I believe I do still." + +There was a brief pause, and then Harry said, "I have heard nothing of +Abbotsmead yet, Bessie?" + +"There is not much to hear. I live there, but no longer in the character +of heiress; that prospect is changed by the opportune discovery that my +uncle Laurence had the wisdom, some five years ago, to take a wife to +please himself, instead of a second fine lady to please my grandfather. +He made a secret of it, for which there was no necessity and not much +excuse, but he did it for their happiness. They have three capital +little boys, who, of course, have taken my shoes. I am not sorry. I +don't care for Woldshire or Abbotsmead. The Forest has my heart." + +"And mine. A man may set his hopes high, so I go on aspiring to the +possession of this earthly paradise of Brook." + +Bessie was smitten with a sudden recollection of what more Harry had +aspired to that time she was admitted into his confidence respecting the +old manor-house. She colored consciously, for she knew that he also +recollected, then said with a smile, "Ah, Harry, but between such +aspirations and their achievement there stretches so often a weary long +day. You will tire with looking forward if you look so far. Are you not +tiring now?" + +"No, no. You must not take any notice of my mother's solemn prognostics. +She does not admire what she calls the smoky color I bring home from +London. Some remote ancestor of my father died there of decline, and she +has taken up a notion that I ought to throw the study of the law to the +winds, come home, and turn farmer. Of what avail, I ask her, would my +scholarship be then?" + +"You would enjoy it, Harry. In combination with a country life it would +make you the pleasantest life a man can live." + +Harry shook his head: "What do you know about it, Bessie? It is +dreadfully hard on an ambitious fellow to be forced to turn his back on +all his fine visions of usefulness and distinction for the paltry fear +that death may cut him short." + +"Oh, if you regard it in that light! I should not call it a paltry fear. +There are more ways than one to distinction--this, for instance," +dropping her hand on Harry's paper in the review. "Winged words fly far, +and influence you never know what minds. I should be proud of the +distinction of a public writer." + +"Literature by itself is not enough to depend on unless one draws a +great prize of popularity. I have not imagination enough to write a +novel. Have you forgotten the disasters of your heroes the poets, +Bessie? No--I cannot give up after a year of difficulty. I would rather +rub out than rust out, if that be all." + +"Oh, Harry, don't be provoking! Why rub out or rust out either?" +remonstrated Bessie. "Your mother would rather keep her living son, +though ever so unlucky, than bury the most promising that ever killed +himself with misdirected labor. Two young men came to Abbotsmead once to +bid grandpapa good-bye; they were only nineteen and sixteen, and were +the last survivors of a family of seven sons. They were going to New +Zealand to save their lives, and are thriving there in a patriarchal +fashion with large families and flocks and herds. You are not asked to +go to New Zealand, but you had better do that than die untimely in foggy +England, dear as it is. Is not life sweet to you?--it is very sweet to +me." + +Harry got up, and walked to an open lattice that commanded the purple +splendor of the western sky. He stood there two or three minutes quite +silent, then by a glance invited Bessie to come. "Life is so sweet," he +said, "that I dare not risk marring it by what seems like cowardice; but +I will be prudent, if only for the sake of the women who love me." There +was the old mirthful light in Harry's eyes as he said the last words +very softly. + +"Don't make fun of us," said Bessie, looking up with a faint blush. "You +know we love you; mind you keep your word. It is time I was going back +to Fairfield, the evening is closing in." + +The door opened and Mrs. Musgrave entered. "Well, children, are you +ready?" she inquired cheerfully. "We are all thinking you have had quite +time enough to tell your secrets, and the doctor has been wanting to +leave for ever so long." + +"Bessie has been administering a lecture, mother, and giving me some +serious advice; she would send me to the antipodes," said her son. +Bessie made a gentle show of denial, and they came forward from the +window. + +"Never mind him, dear, that is his teasing way: I know how much to +believe of his nonsense," said Mrs. Musgrave. "But," she added more +gravely, turning to Harry, "if Bessie agrees with your mother that there +is no sense in destroying your health by poring over dusty law in London +when there are wholesome light ways of living to be turned to in sweet +country air, Bessie is wise. I wish anybody could persuade him to tell +what is his objection to the Church. Or he might go and be a tutor in +some high family, as Lady Latimer suggested. He is well fitted for it." + +"Did Lady Latimer suggest that, mother?" Harry asked with sharp +annoyance in his voice and look. + +"She did, Harry; and don't let that vex you as if it was a coming-down. +For she said that many such tutors, when they took orders, got good +promotion, and more than one had been made a bishop." + +This was too much for the gravity of the young people. "A bishop, +Bessie! Can you array me in lawn sleeves and satin gown?" cried Harry +with a peal of laughter. Then, with a sudden recovery and a sigh, he +said, "Nay, mother, if I must play a part, it shall not be on that +stage. I'll keep my self-respect, whatever else I forfeit." + +"You will have your own way, Harry, lead where it will; your father and +me have not that to learn at this time of day. But, Bessie joy, Mr. +Carnegie's in a hurry, and it is a good step to Fairfield. We shall see +you often while you are in the Forest, I hope?" + +"Staying with Lady Latimer is not quite the same as being at home, but I +shall try to come again." + +"Do, dear--we shall be more than pleased; you were ever a favorite at +Brook," said Mrs. Musgrave tenderly. Bessie kissed Harry's mother, shook +hands with himself and his father, who also patted her on the back as a +reminder of old familiarity, and then went off with Mr. Carnegie, +light-hearted and light-footed, a picture of young content. The doctor, +after one glance at her blithe face, thought that he could tell his wife +when he got home who it was their little Bessie really loved. + +Harry Musgrave took his hat to set Christie part of the way back to +Beechhurst in the opposite direction. The young men talked as they +walked, Christie resuming the argument that the apparition of Bessie +Fairfax had interrupted in the afternoon. The argument was that which +Mrs. Musgrave had enunciated against the study of the law. Harry was not +much moved by it. If he had a new motive for prudence, he had also a new +and very strong motive for persistence. Christie suspected as much, but +the name of Miss Fairfax was not mentioned. + +"You have made your mark in that review, and literature is as fair a +profession as art if a man will only be industrious," he said. + +"I hate the notion of task-work and drudgery in literature; and what +sort of a living is to be got out of our inspirations?" objected Harry. + +"It is good to bear the yoke in our youth: I find it discipline to paint +pot-boilers," rejoined little Christie mildly. "You must write +pot-boilers for the magazines. The best authors do it." + +"It is not easy to get a footing in a magazine where one would care to +appear. There are not many authors whose sole dependence is a +goose-quill. Call over the well-known men; they are all something else +before they are authors. Your pot-boilers are sure of a market; pictures +have become articles of furniture, indispensable to people of taste, and +everybody has a taste now-a-days. But rejected papers are good for +nothing but to light one's fire, if one can keep a fire. Look at +Stamford! Stamford has done excellent work for thirty years; he has been +neither idle nor thriftless, and he lives from hand to mouth still. He +is one of the writers for bread, who must take the price he can get, +and not refuse it, lest he get nothing. And that would be my case--is my +case--for, as you know, my pen provides two-thirds of my maintenance. I +cannot tax my father further. If I had not missed that fellowship! The +love of money may be a root of evil, but the want of it is an evil grown +up and bearing fruit that sets the teeth on edge." + +"My dear Musgrave, that is the voice of despair, and for such a +universal _crux_!" + +"I don't despair, but I am tried, partly by my hard lines and partly by +the anxieties at home that infect me. To think that with this frame," +striking out his muscular right arm, "even Carnegie warns me as if I +were a sick girl! The sins of the fathers are the modern Nessus' shirt +to their children. I shall do my utmost to hold on until I get my call +to the bar and a platform to start from. If I cannot hold on so long, +I'll call it, as my mother does, defeat by visitation of God, and step +down to be a poor fellow amongst other poor fellows. But that is not the +life I planned for." + +"We all know that, Musgrave, and there is no quarter where you won't +meet the truest sympathy. Many a man has to come down from the tall +pedestal where his hopes have set him, and, unless it be by his own +grievous fault, he is tolerably sure to find his level of content on the +common ground. That's where I mean to walk with my Janey; and some day +you'll hold up a finger, and just as sweet a companion will come and +walk hand in hand with you." + +Harry smiled despite his trouble; he knew what Christie meant, and he +believed him. He parted with his friend there, and turned back in the +soft gloom towards home, thinking of her all the way--dear little +Bessie, so frank and warm-hearted. He remembered how, when he was a boy +and lost a certain prize at school that he had reckoned on too +confidently, she had whispered away his shame-faced disappointment with +a rosy cheek against his jacket, and "Never mind, Harry, I love you." +And she would do it again, he knew she would. The feeling was in +her--she could not hide it. + +But at this point of his meditations his worldly wisdom came in to dash +their beauty. Unless he could bridge with bow of highest promise the +gulf that vicissitude had opened between them since those days of +primitive affection, he need not set his mind upon her. He ought not, so +he told himself, though his mind was set upon her already beyond the +chance of turning. He did not know yet that he had a rival; when that +knowledge came all other obstacles, sentimental, chivalrous, would be +swallowed up in its portentous shadow. For to-night he held his reverie +in peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +_AT FAIRFIELD._ + + +"We thought you were lost," was Lady Latimer's greeting to Bessie +Fairfax when she entered the Fairfield drawing-room, tired with her long +walk, but still in buoyant spirits. + +"Oh no!" said Bessie. "I have come from Brook. When I had seen them all +at home my father carried me off there to tea." + +"I observed that you were not at the evening service. The Musgraves and +those people drink tea at five o'clock: you must be ready for your +supper now. Mr. Logger, will you be so good as to ring the bell?" + +Bessie was profoundly absorbed in her own happiness, but Lady Latimer's +manner, and still more the tone of her voice, struck her with an +uncomfortable chill. "Thank you, but I do not wish for anything to eat," +she said, a little surprised. + +The bell had rung, however, and the footman appeared. "Miss Fairfax will +take supper--she dined in the middle of the day," said Lady Latimer, but +nothing could be less hospitable than the inflection of her speech as +she gave the order. + +"Indeed, indeed, I am not hungry; we had chicken and tongue to tea," +cried Bessie, rather shamefaced now. + +"And matrimony-cake and hot buttered toast--" + +"No, we had no matrimony-cake," said Bessie, who understood now that my +lady was cross; and no one could be more taunting and unpleasant than my +lady when she was cross. + +The footman had taken Miss Fairfax's remonstrative statement for a +negative, and had returned to his own supper when the drawing-room bell +rang again: "Why do you not announce Miss Fairfax's supper? Is it not +ready yet?" + +"In a minute, my lady," said the man, and vanished. In due time he +reappeared to say that supper was served, and Lady Latimer looked at her +young guest and repeated the notice. Bessie laughed, and, rising with a +fine color and rather proud air, left the room and went straight to bed. +When neither she nor Mrs. Betts came in to prayers half an hour later, +my lady became silent and reflective: she was not accustomed to revolt +amongst her young ladies, and Miss Fairfax's quiet defiance took her at +a disadvantage. She had anticipated a much more timid habit in this +young lady, whom she had undertaken to manage and mould to the will of +her grandfather. In the morning her humor was gracious again, and +Bessie, who had received counsel from Dora Meadows, deeply experienced +in Aunt Olympia's peculiarities, made no sign of remembering that there +had been any fray. But she was warned of the imperious temper of her +hostess, who would have no independence of action amongst her youthful +charges, but expected them to consult her and defer to her at every +step. "Why, then," thought Bessie, "did she bid me, in the first +instance, do exactly what I liked?" To this there was no answer: is +there ever an answer to the _why_ of an exacting woman's caprice? + +After breakfast the young ladies took Mr. Logger out for a salubrious +airing across the heath. In their absence Harry Musgrave and young +Christie called at Fairfield, and, no longer in terror of Lady Latimer's +patronage, talked to her of themselves, which she liked. She was +exceedingly kind, and asked them both to dine the next day. "You will +meet Mr. Cecil Burleigh: you may have heard his name, Mr. Musgrave? The +Conservative member for Norminster," she said rather imposingly. + +"Oh yes, he is one of the coming men," said Harry, much interested, and +he accepted the invitation. Mr. Christie declined it. His mother was +very ill, he said, but he would send his portfolio for her ladyship to +look over, if she would allow him. Her ladyship would be delighted. + +When the young ladies brought Mr. Logger back to luncheon the visitors +were gone, but Lady Latimer mentioned that they had been there, and she +gave Mr. Logger a short account of them: "Mr. Harry Musgrave is reading +for the bar. He took honors at Oxford, and if his constitution will +stand the wear and tear of a laborious, intellectual life, great things +may be expected from him. But unhappily he is not very strong." Mr. +Logger shook his head, and said it was the London gas. "Mr. Christie is +a son of our village wheelwright, himself a most ingenious person. Mr. +Danberry found him out, and spoke those few words of judicious praise +that revealed the young man to himself as an artist. Mr. Danberry was +staying with me at the time, and we had him here with his sketches, +which were so promising that we encouraged him to make art his study. +And he has done so with much credit." + +"Christie? a landscape-painter? does a portrait now and then? I have met +him at Danberry's," said Mr. Logger, whose vocation it was to have met +everybody who was likely to be mentioned in society. "Curious now: +Archdeacon Topham was the son of a country carpenter: headstrong +fellow--took a mountain-walk without a guide, and fell down a +_crevasse_, or something." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh arrived the next day to luncheon. In the afternoon +the whole party walked in the Forest. Lady Latimer kept Dora at her +elbow, and required Mr. Logger's opinion and advice on a new emigration +scheme that she was endeavoring to develop. Bessie Fairfax was thus left +to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and they were not at a loss for conversation. +Bessie was feeling quite gay and happy, and talked and listened as +cheerfully as possible. The gentleman was rather jaded with the work of +the session, and showed it in his handsome visage. He assumed that Miss +Fairfax was so far in his confidence as to be interested in the high +themes that interested himself, and of these he discoursed until his +companion inadvertently betrayed that she was capable of abstracting her +mind and thinking of something else while seeming to give him all her +polite attention. He was then silent--not unthankfully. + +Their walk took them first round by the wheelwright's and afterward by +the village. Lady Latimer loved to entertain and occupy her guests, even +those who would have preferred wider margins of leisure. On the green in +front of the wheelwright's they found little Christie seated under a +white umbrella, making a sketch of his father's house and the shed. A +group of sturdy children had put themselves just in the way by a +disabled wagon to give it life. + +"I am doing it to please my mother," said the artist in reply to Lady +Latimer's inquiry if he was going to make a finished picture of it. He +went on with his dainty touches without moving. "I must not lose the +five-o'clock effect of the sun through that tall fir," he explained +apologetically. + +"No; continue, pray, continue," said my lady, and summoned her party to +proceed. + +At the entrance of the village, to Bessie's great joy, they fell in with +Mr. Carnegie returning from a long round on horseback. + +"Would Bessie like a ride with the old doctor to-morrow?" he asked her +as the others strolled on. + +"Oh yes--I have brought my habit," she said enthusiastically. + +"Then Miss Hoyden shall trot along with me, and we'll call for you--not +later than ten, Bessie, and you'll not keep me waiting." + +"Oh no; I will be ready. Lady Latimer has not planned anything for the +morning, so I may be excused." + +Whether Lady Latimer had planned anything for the morning or not, she +manifested a lofty displeasure that Miss Fairfax had planned this ride +for herself. Dora whispered to her not to mind, it would soon blow over. +So Bessie went up stairs to dress somewhat relieved, but still with a +doubtful mind and a sense of indignant astonishment at my lady's +behavior to her. She thought it very odd, and speculated whether there +might be any reason for it beyond the failure in deference to herself. + +An idea struck her when she saw Mrs. Betts unfolding her most sumptuous +dress--a rich white silk embroidered in black and silver for +mourning--evidently in the intention of adorning her to the highest. +"Oh, not that dress," she said. "I will wear my India muslin with black +ribbons." + +"It is quite a set party, miss," remonstrated Mrs. Betts. + +"No matter," said Bessie decisively. No, she would not triumph over dear +Harry with grand clothes. + +When her young lady had spoken, Mrs. Betts knew that it was spending her +breath in vain to contradict; and Bessie went down to the drawing-room +with an air of inexpensive simplicity very becoming to her beauty, and +that need not alarm a poor gentleman who might have visions of her as a +wife. Lady Latimer instantly accused and convicted her of that intention +in it--in her private thoughts, that is. My lady herself was magnificent +in purple satin, and little Dora Meadows had put on her finest raiment; +but Bessie, with her wealth of fair hair and incomparable beauty of +coloring, still glowed the most; and she glowed with more than her +natural rose when Lady Latimer, after looking her up and down from head +to foot with extreme deliberation, turned away with a scorny face. +Bessie's eyes sparkled, and Mr. Logger, who saw all and saw nothing, +perceived that she could look scorny too. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was pacing to and fro the conservatory into which a +glass door opened from the drawing-room. His hands were clasped behind +him, and his head was bent down as if he were in a profoundly cogitative +mood. "I am afraid Burleigh is rather out of sorts--the effect of +overstrain, the curse of our time," said Mr. Logger sententiously. Mr. +Logger himself was admirably preserved. + +"He is looking remarkably well, on the contrary," said Lady Latimer. My +lady was certainly not in her most beneficent humor. Dora darted an +alarmed glance at Bessie, and at that moment Mr. Musgrave was announced. + +Bessie blushed him a sweet welcome, and said, perhaps unnecessarily, "I +am so glad you have come!" and Harry expressed his thanks with kind eyes +and a very cordial shake of the hand: they appeared quite confidentially +intimate, those young people. Lady Latimer stood looking on like a +picture of dignity, and when Mr. Cecil Burleigh entered from the +conservatory she introduced the two young men in her stateliest manner. +Bessie was beginning now to understand what all this meant. Throughout +the dinner my lady never relaxed. She was formally courteous, +elaborately gracious, but _grande dame_ from her shoe-tie to the +top-knot of her cap. + +Those who knew her well were ill at ease, but Harry Musgrave dined in +undisturbed, complacent comfort. He had known dons at Oxford, and placed +Lady Latimer in the donnish caste: that was all. He thought she had been +a more charming woman. The conversation was interrogatory, and chiefly +addressed to himself, and he had plenty to say and a pleasant way of +saying it, but except for Bessie's dear bright face opposite the +atmosphere would have been quite freezing. When the ladies withdrew, Mr. +Logger almost immediately followed, and then Mr. Cecil Burleigh was +himself again. He unbent to this athletic young man, whose Oxford +double-first was the hall-mark of his quality, and whom Miss Fairfax was +so frankly glad to see. Harry Musgrave had heard the reputation of the +other, and met his condescension with the easy deference of a young man +who knows the world. They were mutually interesting, and stayed in the +dining-room until Lady Latimer sent to say that tea was in. + +When they entered the drawing-room my lady and Mr. Logger were deep in a +report of the emigration commission. Bessie and Dora were sitting on the +steps into the rose-garden watching the moon rise over the distant sea. +Dora was bidden to come in out of the dew and give the gentlemen a cup +of tea; Bessie was not bidden to do anything: she was apparently in +disgrace. Dora obeyed like a little scared rabbit. Harry Musgrave stood +a minute pensive, then took possession of a fine, quilted red silk +_duvet_ from the couch, and folded it round Bessie's shoulders with the +remark that her dress was but thin. Mr. Cecil Burleigh witnessed with +secret trepidation the simple, affectionate thoughtfulness with which +the act was done and the beautiful look of kindness with which it was +acknowledged. Bessie's innocent face was a mirror for her heart. If this +fine gentleman was any longer deceived on his own account, he was one of +the blind who are blind because they will not see. + +Lady Latimer was observant too, and she now left her blue-book, and +said, "Mr. Musgrave, will you not have tea?" + +Harry came forward and accepted a cup, and was kept standing in the +middle of the room for the next half hour, extemporizing views and +opinions upon subjects on which he had none, until a glance of my lady's +eye towards the clock on the chimney-piece gave him notice of the hours +observed in great society. A few minutes after he took his leave, +without having found the opportunity of speaking to Bessie again, except +to say "Good-night." + +As Harry Musgrave left the room my lady rang the bell, and when the +servant answered it she turned to Bessie and said in her iced voice, +"Perhaps you would like to send for a shawl?" + +"Thank you, but I will not go out again," said Bessie mildly, and the +servant vanished. + +Mr. Logger, who had really much amiability, here offered a remark: "A +very fine young man, that Mr. Musgrave--great power of countenance. +Wherever I meet with it now I say, Let us cherish talent, for it will +soon be the only real distinction where everybody is rich." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh made an inarticulate murmur, which might signify +acquiescence or the reverse. + +Lady Latimer said, "Young ladies, I think it is time you were going up +stairs." And with dutiful alacrity the young ladies went. + +"Never mind," whispered Dora to Bessie with a kiss as they separated. +"If you take any notice of Aunt Olympia's tempers, you will not have a +moment's peace: I never do. All will be right again in the morning." +Bessie had her doubts of that, but she tried to feel hopeful; and she +was not without her consolation, whether or no. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +_ANOTHER RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR._ + + +Half-past nine was the breakfast-hour at Fairfield, and Bessie Fairfax +said she would prepare for her ride before going down. + +"Will you breakfast in your riding-habit, miss?--her ladyship is very +particular," said Mrs. Betts in a tone implying that her ladyship might +consider it a liberty. Bessie said Yes, she must not keep Mr. Carnegie +waiting when he came. + +So she went down stairs in her habit and a crimson neck-tie, with her +hair compactly rolled up, and looking exceedingly well. Lady Latimer +justified Dora's predictions: she kissed Bessie as if she had never been +affronted. Bessie accepted the caress, and was thankful. It was no part +of her pleasure to vex my lady. + +They had not left the breakfast-table when the servant announced that +Mr. Carnegie had arrived. "We will go out and see you mount," said Lady +Latimer, and left her unfinished meal, Mr. Cecil Burleigh attending her. +Dora would have gone too, but as Mr. Logger made no sign of moving, my +lady intimated that she must remain. Lady Latimer had inquiries to make +of the doctor respecting several sick poor persons, her pensioners, and +while they are talking Mr. Cecil Burleigh gave Bessie a hand up into her +saddle, and remarked that Miss Hoyden was in high condition and very +fresh. + +"Oh, I can hold her. She has a good mouth and perfect temper; she never +ran away from me but once," said Bessie, caressing her old favorite with +voice and hand. + +"And what happened on that occasion?" said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. + +"She had her fling, and nothing happened. It was along the road that +skirts the Brook pastures, and at the sharp turn Mr. Harry Musgrave saw +her coming--head down, the bit in her teeth--and threw open the gate, +and we dashed into the clover. As I did not lose my nerve or tumble off, +I am never afraid now. I love a good gallop." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh asked no more questions. If it be true that out of +the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, Brook and Mr. Harry +Musgrave must have been much in Miss Fairfax's thoughts; this was now +the third time that she had found occasion to mention them since coming +to breakfast. + +Lady Latimer turned in-doors again with a preoccupied air. Bessie had +looked behind her as she rode down the avenue, as if she were bidding +them good-bye. Mr. Cecil Burleigh was silent too. He had come to +Fairfield with certain lively hopes and expectations, for which my lady +was mainly responsible, and already he was experiencing sensations of +blankness worse to bear than disappointment. Others might be perplexed +as to Miss Fairfax's sentiments, but to him they were clear as the +day--friendly, but nothing more. She was now where she would be, was +exuberantly contented, and could not hide how slight a tie upon her had +been established by a year amongst her kindred in Woldshire. + +"This is like old times, Bessie," said the doctor as the Fairfield gate +closed behind them. + +Bessie laughed and tossed her head like a creature escaped. "Yes, I am +so happy!" she answered. + +The ride was just one of the doctor's regular rounds. He had to call at +Brook, where a servant was ill, and they went by the high-road to the +manor. Harry Musgrave was not at home. He had gone out for a day's +ranging, and was pensively pondering his way through the bosky recesses +of the Forest, under the unbroken silence of the tall pines, to the +seashore and the old haunts of the almost extinct race of smugglers. The +first person they met after leaving the manor was little Christie with a +pale radiant face, having just come on a perfect theme for a picture--a +still woodland pool reflecting high broken banks and flags and rushes, +with slender birchen trees hanging over, and a cluster of low +reed-thatched huts, very uncomfortable to live in, but gloriously mossed +and weather-stained to paint. + +"Don't linger here too late--it is an unwholesome spot," said Mr. +Carnegie, warning him as he rode on. Little Christie set up his white +umbrella in the sun, and kings might have envied him. + +"My mother is better, but call and see her," he cried after the doctor; +this amendment was one cause of the artist's blitheness. + +"Of course, she is better--she has had nothing for a week to make her +bad," said Mr. Carnegie; but when he reached the wheelwright's and saw +Mrs. Christie, with a handkerchief tied over her cap, gently pacing the +narrow garden-walks, he assumed an air of excessive astonishment. + +"Yes, Mr. Carnegie, sir, I'm up and out," she announced in a tone of no +thanks to anybody. "I felt a sing'lar wish to taste the air, and my boy +says, 'Go out, mother; it will do you more good than anything.' I could +enjoy a ride in a chaise, but folks that make debts can afford to behave +very handsome to themselves in a many things that them that pays ready +money has to be mean enough to do without. Jones's wife has her rides, +but if her husband would pay for the repair of the spring-cart that was +mended fourteen months ago come Martinmas, there'd be more sense in +that." + +"Don't matter, my good soul! Walking is better than riding any fine day, +if you have got the strength," said the doctor briskly. + +"Yes, sir; there's that consolation for them that is not rich and loves +to pay their way. I hope to walk to church next Sunday, please the Lord. +And if a word could be given to Mr. Wiley not to play so on the +feelings, it would be a mercy. He do make such awful faces, and allude +to sudden death and accidents and the like, as is enough to give an +ailing person a turn. I said to Mrs. Bunny, 'Mary,' I said, 'don't you +go to hear him; leastways, sit by the door if you must, and don't stop +for the sermon: it might make that impression it would do the babe a +mischief.'" + +"Go to chapel; it is nearer. And take Mrs. Bunny with you," said Mr. +Carnegie. + +"No, sir. Mrs. Wiley has been very kind in calling and taking notice +since I have been laid up, and one good turn deserves another. I shall +attend church in future, though the doctrine's so shocking that if folks +pondered it the lunatic asylums wouldn't hold 'em all. I'll never +believe as the Lord meant us to be threatened with judgment to come, and +hell, and all that, till one's afraid to lie down in one's bed. He'd not +have let there be an end of us if we didn't get so mortal tired o' +living." + +"Living is a weariness that men and women bear with unanimous patience, +Mrs. Christie--aches and pains included." + +"So it may be, sir. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. A week ago I +could not have thought the pleasure it would be to-day to see the sun, +and the pretty things in flower, and my boy going out with his +color-box. And not as much physic have you given me, Mr. Carnegie, as +would lie on a penny-piece." + +Bessie Fairfax laughed as they rode on, and said, "Nobody changes. I +should be tempted to give Mrs. Christie something horribly nasty for her +ingratitude." + +"Nobody changes," echoed the doctor. "She will be at her drugs again +before the month is out." + +A little beyond the wheelwright's, Mr. Carnegie pulled up at a spot by +the wayside where an itinerant tinker sat in the shade with his brazier +hot, doing a good stroke of work on the village kettles and pots: "Eh, +Gampling, here you are again! They bade me at home look out for you and +tell you to call. There is a whole regiment of cripples to mend." + +"Then let 'em march to Hampton, sir--they'll get back some time this +side o' Christmas," said the tinker, with a surly cunning glance out of +the corner of his eye. "Your women's so mighty hard to please that I'm +not meaning to call again; I prefers to work where I gives +satisfaction." + +"I did hear something of a pan new bottomed to mend a hole in its side; +but what is that amongst friends? Mistakes will occur in the +best-regulated businesses." + +"You're likely to know, sir--there's a sight o' folks dropping off quite +unaccountable else. I'm not dependent on one nor another, and what I +says I stands to: I'll never call at Dr. Carnegie's back door again +while that Irish lass is about his kitchen; she's give me the rough side +of her tongue once, but she won't do it no more." + +"Then good-day to you, Gampling; I can't part with the Irish lass at +your price." + +A sturdy laborer came along the road eating a hunch of bread and cheese. +Mr. Carnegie asked him how his wife did. The answer was crabbed: "She's +never naught to boast on, and she's allus worse after a spiritchus +visit: parson's paying her one now. Can you tell me, Mr. Carnegie, sir, +why parson chooses folk's dinner-time to drop in an' badger 'em about +church? Old parson never did." He did not stay to have his puzzle +elucidated, but trudged heavily on. + +"Mr. Wiley does not seem very popular yet," observed Bessie. + +"He is more so than he was. But his wife, who helps the poor liberally +in the winter, is of twice the use in the parish that he is, with his +inopportune 'spiritchus visits.' I have remonstrated with him about +going to the cottages between twelve and one, when dinner is being eaten +and the men want a bit of rest, but he professes that it is the only +time to catch them in-doors. I suppose Molton won't bear it, and takes +up his food and walks out. Yet Beechhurst might have a worse pastor than +poor Wiley. He is a man I pity--a martyr to dyspepsia and a gloomy +imagination. But I will not deny that he often raises my choler still." +The doctor was on the verge of having it raised now. + +At the last bend of the road to the village, and nearly opposite the +forge, was a small cabin of one room, the abode of the respectable Mrs. +Wallop, the mainstay of Beechhurst as a nurse in last illnesses and +dangerous cases--a woman of heart and courage, though perhaps of too +imaginative a style of conversation. Although it was but a work-day, she +was sitting at her own door in her Sunday black gown and bonnet, and, +like Niobe, all tears. Mr. Carnegie pulled up in sheer amazement at the +deplorable spectacle his valued right hand was making of herself in +public, and, as if she had been on the watch for him, up she rose from +her stool and came forward to answer his unspoken questions. + +"Ay, Mr. Carnegie, sir, you may well ask what I am doing at home all day +idle," said she. "It is a Judas I feel, and if I don't get it off my +mind it will be too much for me: I can't bear it, sir." + +"Then out with it, Mrs. Wallop," said the imperative doctor. "It is +nothing very private, or you would not advertise it by crying at the +corner of the street." + +"No, sir, but it shames me to tell it, that it do, though you're one o' +them that well knows what flesh and blood comes to when the temptation's +strong. I've took money, Mr. Carnegie, wage for a month, to go nowheres +else but to the rectory; and nobody ill there, only a' might happen. It +never occurred to me the cruel sin I'd done till Robb came along, +begging and praying of me to go to them forlorn poor creturs at +Marsh-End. For it is the fever, sir. Mr. Wiley got wind of it, and sent +Robb over to make sure." + +"Lost in misery they are. Fling away your dirty hire, and be off to +Marsh-End, Mrs. Wallop. Crying and denying your conscience will +disagree very badly with your inside," said Mr. Carnegie, angry contempt +in his voice. + +"I will sir, and be glad to. It ain't Christian--no, nor human natur--to +sit with hands folded when there is sick folk wanting help. Poor Judas!" +she went on in soliloquy as the doctor trotted off. "I reckon his +feelings changed above a bit between looking at the thirty pieces of +silver and wishing he had 'un, and finding how heavy they was on his +soul afore he was drove to get rid of 'em, and went out and hanged +himself. I won't do that, anyhow, while I've a good charicter to fall +back on, but I'll return Mrs. Wiley her money, and take the consequences +if she sets it about as I'm not a woman of my word." + +A few minutes more brought Mr. Carnegie home with Bessie Fairfax to his +own door. Hovering about on the watch for the doctor's return was Mr. +Wiley. Though there was no great love lost between them, the rector was +imbued with the local faith in the doctor's skill, and wanted to consult +him. + +"You have heard that the fever has broken out again?" he said with +visible trepidation. + +"I have no case of fever myself. I hear that Robb has." + +"Yes--two in one house. Now, what precautions do you recommend against +infection?" + +"For nervous persons the best precaution is to keep out of the way of +infection." + +"You would recommend me to keep away from Marsh-End, then? Moxon is +nearer, though it is in my parish." + +"I never recommend a man to dodge his duty. Mrs. Wallop will be of most +use at present; she is just starting." + +"Mrs. Wallop? My wife has engaged her and paid her for a month in the +event of any trouble coming amongst ourselves. You must surely be +mistaken, Mr. Carnegie?" + +"Mrs. Wiley was mistaken. She did not know her woman. Good-morning to +you, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +_FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES._ + + +Mrs. Carnegie from the dining-room window witnessed the colloquy between +the rector and her husband, and came out into the porch to receive her +dear Bessie. "They will not expect you at Fairfield until they see you; +so come in, love," said she, and Bessie gladly obeyed. + +The doctor's house was all the quieter for the absence of the elder boys +at Hampton. The other children were playing in the orchard after school. +"It is a great convenience to have a school opened here where boys and +girls are both taught from four up to ten, and very nicely taught," said +the mother. "It gives me a little leisure. Even Totty goes, and likes +it, bless her!" + +Mr. Carnegie was not many minutes in-doors. He ate a crust standing, and +then went away again to answer a summons that had come since he went out +in the morning. + +"It will be a good opportunity, Bessie, to call on Miss Buff and Miss +Wort, and to say a word in passing to the Semples and Mittens; they are +always polite in asking after you," Mrs. Carnegie mentioned at the +children's dinner. But Miss Buff, having heard that Miss Fairfax was at +the doctor's house, forestalled these good intentions by arriving there +herself. She was ushered into the drawing-room, and Bessie joined her, +and was embraced and rejoiced over exuberantly. + +"You dear little thing! I do like you in your habit," cried she. "Turn +round--it fits beautifully. So you have been having a ride with the +doctor, and seeing everybody, I suppose? Mrs. Wiley wonders when you +will call." + +"Oh yes, Bessie dear, you must not neglect Mrs. Wiley," said Mrs. +Carnegie. + +"It will do some day with Lady Latimer--she has constant business at the +rectory," Bessie said. She did not wish to waste this precious afternoon +in duty-visits to people she did not care for. + +"Well, I was to have written to you, and I never did," recommenced Miss +Buff. + +"Out of sight, out of mind: don't apologize!" + +But Miss Buff would explain and extenuate her broken promise: "The fact +is, my hands are almost too full: what with the school and the +committee, the organ and church, the missionary club and my district, I +am a regular lay-curate. Then there is Mr. Duffer's early service, eight +o'clock; and Fridays and Wednesdays and all the saints' days, and +decorating for the great festivals--perhaps a little too much of that, +but on Whitsunday the chancel was lovely, was it not, Mrs. Carnegie?" +Mrs. Carnegie nodded her acquiescence. "Then I have a green-house at +last, and that gives me something to do. I should like to show you my +green-house, Bessie. But you must be used to such magnificent things now +that perhaps you will not care for my small place." + +"I shall care as much as ever. I prefer small things to great yet." + +"And my fowl-house--you shall see that--and my pigeons. You used to be +so fond of live creatures, Bessie." + +"By the by, Miss Buff, have you discovered yet the depredator of your +poultry-yard?" Mrs. Carnegie asked. + +"No, but I have put a stop to his depredations. I strongly suspect that +pet subject of Miss Wort's--that hulking, idle son of Widow Burt. I am +sorry for _her_, but _he_ is no good. You know I wrote to the inspector +of police at Hampton. Did I not tell you? No! Well, but I did, and said +if he would send an extra man over to stay the night in the house and +watch who stole my pigeons, he should have coffee and hot buttered +toast; and I dare say Eppie would not have objected to sit up with him +till twelve. However, the inspector didn't--he did not consider it +necessary--but the ordinary police probably watched, for I have not been +robbed since. And that is a comfort; I hate to sleep with one eye open. +You are laughing, Bessie; you would not laugh if you had lost seven +pigeons ready to go into a pie, and all in the space of ten days. I am +sure that horrid Burt stole 'em." + +Bessie still laughed: "Is your affection so material? Do you love your +pigeons so dearly that you eat them up?" said she. + +"What else should I keep them for? I should be overrun with pigeons but +for putting them in pies; they make the garden very untidy as it is. I +have given up keeping ducks, but I have a tame gull for the slugs. Who +is this at the gate? Oh! Miss Wort with her inexhaustible physic-bottle. +Everybody seems to have heard that you are here, Bessie." + +Miss Wort came in breathless, and paused, and greeted Bessie in a way +that showed her wits were otherwise engaged. "It is the income-tax," she +explained parenthetically, with an appealing look round at the company. +"I have been so put out this morning; I never had my word doubted +before. Jimpson is the collector this year--" + +"Jimpson!" broke out Miss Buff impetuously. "I should like to know who +they will appoint next to pry into our private affairs? As long as old +Dobbs collected all the rates and taxes they were just tolerable, but +since they have begun to appoint new men every year my patience is +exhausted. Talk of giving us votes at elections: I would rather vote at +twenty elections than have Tom, Dick, and Harry licensed to inquire into +my money-matters. Since Dobbs was removed we have had for assessors of +income-tax both the butchers, the baker, the brewer, the miller, the +little tailor, the milk-man; and now Jimpson at the toy-shop, of all +good people! There will soon be nobody left but the sweep." + +"The sweep is a very civil man, but Jimpson is impertinent. I told him +the sum was not correct, and he answered me: 'The government of the +country must have money to carry on; I have nothing to do with the sum +except to collect it. If you don't like it, ma'am, you've got to appeal +and go before the commissioners.' He may puzzle me with his figures, but +he will never convince me I have the income, for I have not. And he said +if I supposed he was fond of the job I was mistaken." + +"Can Mr. Carnegie help you, Miss Wort? Men manage these things so much +more easily than we do," said Mrs. Carnegie kindly. + +"Thank you, but I paid the demand as the least trouble and to have done +with it." + +"Of course; I would pay half I am possessed of rather rather than go +before the commissioners," said Miss Buff. "Old Phipps is one of them; +and here he is. Come to see you, Bessie; you are having quite a levee. I +shall be off now." Miss Buff rose, and Miss Wort with her, but before +they went there were some rallying speeches to be exchanged between Miss +Buff and the quaint old bachelor. They were the most friendly of +antagonists, and their animosity was not skin-deep. "Have you seen Lady +Latimer since the last school committee, Mr. Phipps?" asked Miss Buff, +in mischievous allusion to their latest difference of opinion. + +"No. I always keep as far as possible out of her ladyship's way." + +"If you had her spirit of charity you would not avow it." + +"You take the name of charity in vain. 'It is the beginning, the excuse, +and the pretext for a thousand usurpations.' Poverty has a new terror +now-a-days in the officiousness of women with nothing to do but play at +charity." + +Miss Wort shook her head and shut her eyes, as if to stave off the shock +of this profanity. Miss Buff only laughed the more merrily, and declared +that Mr. Phipps himself had as much to answer for as anybody in +Beechhurst, if charity was a sin. + +"I can charge myself with very few acts of charity," said he grimly. "I +am not out of bonds to bare justice." + +Mr. Phipps was in his sarcastic vein, and shot many a look askance at +Cinderella in the sofa corner, with her plumed velvet hat lying on a +chair beside her. She had been transformed into a most beautiful +princess, there was no denying that. He had heard a confidential whisper +respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and had seen that gentleman--a very +handsome personage to play the part of prince in the story. Mr. Phipps +had curiosity, discernment, and a great shrewdness. Bessie had a happy +face, and was enjoying her day in her old home; but she would never be +Cinderella in the nursery any more--never the little sunburnt gypsy who +delighted to wander in the Forest with the boys, and was nowhere so well +pleased as when she might run wild. He told her so; he wanted to prove +her temper since her exaltation. + +"I shall never be only twelve years old again, and that's true," said +Bessie, with a sportive defiance exceedingly like her former self. "But +I may travel--who knows how far and wide?--and come home browner than +any berry. Grandpapa was a traveller once; so was my uncle Laurence in +pursuit of antiquities; and my poor uncle Frederick--you know he was +lost in the Baltic? The gypsy wildness is in the blood, but I shall +always come back to the Forest to rest." + +"She will keep up that delusion in her own mind to the last," said Mr. +Phipps. Then after an instant's pause, as if purposely to mark the +sequence of his thoughts, he asked, "Is that gentleman who is staying at +Fairfield with you now, Mr. Cecil Burleigh, a Woldshire man or South +country?" + +"Woldshire," said Bessie curtly; and the color mounted to her face at +the boldness of her old friend's insinuation. + +Mr. Phipps admired her anger, and went on with great coolness: "He has +some reputation--member for Norminster, I think you said? The Fairfaxes +used to be great in that part of the county fifty years ago. And I +suppose, Miss Fairfax, you can talk French now and play on the piano?" + +Bessie felt that he was very impertinent, but she preserved her +good-humor, and replied laughing, "Yes, Mr. Phipps, I can do a little of +both, like other young ladies." Mr. Carnegie had now come in. + +"The old piano is sadly out of tune, but perhaps, Bessie dear, you would +give us a song before you go," suggested her mother. + +Bessie gracefully complied, but nobody thought much of her little French +canzonette. "It is but a tiny chirp, Bessie; we have better songs than +that at home--eh, mother?" said the doctor, and that was all the +compliment she got on her performance. Mr. Phipps was amused by her +disconcerted air; already she was beyond the circle where plain speaking +is the rule and false politeness the exception. She knew that her father +must be right, and registered a silent vow to sing no more unless in +private. + +Just at this crisis a carriage drove up and stopped at the gate. "It is +the Fairfield carriage come to carry you off, Bessie," said her mother. +Lady Latimer looked out and spoke to the footman, who touched his hat +and ran to the porch with his message, "Would Miss Fairfax make +haste?--her ladyship was in a hurry." + +"I must go," said Bessie, and took her hat. Mr. Phipps sighed like an +echo, and everybody laughed. "Good-bye, but you will see me very soon +again," she cried from the gate, and then she got into the carriage. + +"To Admiral Parking's," said Lady Latimer, and they drove off on a round +of visits, returning to Fairfield only in time to dress for dinner. + +Just at that hour Harry Musgrave was coming back from his ramble in the +red light of a gorgeous sunset, to be met by his mother with the news +that Bessie Fairfax had called at the manor in the course of a ride with +the doctor in the morning, and what a pity it was that he was out of the +way! for he might have had a ride with them if he had not set off quite +so early on his walk. Harry regretted too much what he had missed to +have much to say about it; it was very unlucky. Bessie at Fairfield, he +clearly discerned, was not at home for him, and Lady Latimer was not his +friend. He had not heard any secrets respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh, but +a suspicion obscured his fancy since last night, and his mother's +tidings threw him into a mood of dejection that made him as pale as a +fond lover whom his lady has rebuffed. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +_HOW FRIENDS MAY FALL OUT._. + + +Mr. and Mrs. Bernard and Mr. Wiley were added to the dinner-party at +Fairfield that evening, and Lady Latimer gave Miss Fairfax a quiet +reminder that she might have to be on her guard, for the rector was as +deficient in tact as ever. And so he proved. He first announced that the +fever had broken out again at Littlemire and Marsh-End, after the +shortest lull he recollected, thus taking away Mr. Logger's present +appetite, and causing him to flee from the Forest the first thing in the +morning. Then he condoled with Mrs. Bernard on a mishap to her child +that other people avoided speaking of, for the consequences were likely +to be very serious, and she had not yet been made fully aware of them. +There was a peculiar, low, lugubrious note in his voice which caused it +to be audible through the room, and Bessie, who sat opposite to him, +between Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Mr. Logger, devoted all her conversation +to them to avoid that of the rector. But he had taken note of her at the +moment of his entrance, and though the opportunity of remark had not +been afforded him, he soon made it, beginning with inquiries after her +grandfather. Then he reverted to Mr. Fairfax's visit to Beechhurst four +years ago, and spoke in a congratulatory, patronizing manner that was +peculiarly annoying to Bessie: "There is a difference between now and +then--eh, Bessie? Mrs. Wiley and I have often smiled at one naïve little +speech of yours--about a nest-egg that was saving up for a certain event +that young ladies look forward to. It must be considerably grown by now, +that nest-egg. You remember, I see." + +Anybody might see that Bessie remembered; not her face only, but her +neck, her very arms, burned. + +"Secrets are not to be told out of the confessional," said Mr. Bernard. +"Miss Fairfax, you blush unseen by me." + +There was a general low ripple of laughter, and everybody began to talk +at once, to cover the young lady's palpable confusion. Afterward, Lady +Latimer, who had been amused, begged to know what that mysterious +nest-egg might be. Bessie hesitated. "Tell us, _do_ tell us," urged Dora +and Mrs. Bernard; so Bessie told them. She had to mention the schemes +for sending her to the Hampton Training School and Madame Michaud's +millinery shop by way of making her story clear, and then Lady Latimer +rather regretted that curiosity had prevailed, and manifested her regret +by saying that Mr. Wiley was one of the most awkward and unsafe guests +she ever invited to her table. "I should have asked him to meet Mr. +Harry Musgrave last night, but he would have been certain to make some +remark or inquiry that would have hurt the young man's feelings or put +him out of countenance." + +"Oh no," said Bessie with a beautiful blushing light in her face, "Harry +is above that. He has made his own place, and holds it with perfect ease +and simplicity. I see no gentleman who is his better." + +"You were always his advocate," Lady Latimer said with a sudden +accession of coldness. "Oxford has done everything for him. Dora, close +that window; Margaret, don't stand in a draught. Mr. Harry Musgrave is +a very plain young man." + +"Aunt Olympia, no," remonstrated Mrs. Bernard, who had a suspicion of +Miss Fairfax's tenderness in that quarter, and for kind sympathy would +not have her ruffled. + +But Bessie was quite equal to the occasion. "His plainness is lost in +what Mr. Logger calls his power of countenance," said she. "And I'm sure +he has a fine eye, and the sweetest smile I know." + +Lady Latimer's visage was a study of lofty disapproval: "Has he but one +eye?--I thought he had two. When young ladies begin to talk of young +gentlemen's fine eyes and sweet smiles, we begin to reflect. But they +commonly keep such sentiments to themselves." + +Dora and Bessie glanced at one another, and had the audacity to laugh. +Then Mrs. Bernard laughed and shook her head. My lady colored; she felt +herself in a minority, and, though she did not positively laugh, her +lips parted and her air of severity melted away. Bessie had cast off all +fear of her with her old belief in her perfection. She loved her, but +she knew now that she would never submit to her guidance. Lady Latimer +glanced in the girl's brave, bright face, and said meaningly, "The +nest-egg will not have been saving up unnecessarily if you condescend to +such a folly as _that_." And Bessie felt that my lady had got the last +word for the present. + +She looked guilty yet indignant at this open reference to what was no +more than an unspoken vision. She had a thousand shy silent thoughts in +her heart, but it was not for any one to drag them into the light. Lady +Latimer understood that she had said too much, but she would not +retract, and in this way their contention began. They were henceforward +visibly in opposition. Mr. Harry Musgrave called the next morning at +Fairfield and asked for Miss Fairfax. He was not admitted; he was told +that she was not at home. + +"But I was at home. Perhaps he is going back to London. I should have +liked to see him," said Bessie when she heard. + +"He came at eleven o'clock: who comes at eleven o'clock? Of course +Roberts said 'Not at home,'" replied my lady. + +Bessie knew that Roberts would not have said "Not at home" unless he +had received orders to that effect. And, in fact, his orders were to say +"Not at home" to Mr. Harry Musgrave at any and every hour. Lady Latimer +had pledged herself to secure the success of Mr. Cecil Burleigh. She +felt that Bessie was strong in her frank defiance, but if my lady could +do no more for the discouraged suitor, she could at least keep his +favored rival at a distance. And this she did without a twinge of +remorse. Bessie had a beautiful temper when she was pleased, but her +whole soul rebelled against persecution, and she considered it acute +persecution to be taken out for formal drives and calls in custody of my +lady and Mr. Cecil Burleigh, when her mother was probably mending the +boys' socks, and longing for an hour or two of her company at +Beechhurst, and Harry Musgrave was looking in every afternoon at the +doctor's to see if, by good luck, she had gone over. Bessie was made +aware of this last circumstance, and she reckoned it up with a daily +accumulating sense of injury against my lady and her client. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh found out before long that he was losing rather than gaining in +her esteem. Miss Fairfax became not only stiff and cold, but perverse, +and Lady Latimer began to feel that it was foolishly done to bring her +to Fairfield. She had been put in the way of the very danger that was to +be averted. Mr. Harry Musgrave showed to no disadvantage in any company; +Miss Fairfax had not the classic taste; Lady Angleby's tactics were a +signal failure; her nephew it was who suffered diminution in the ordeal +she had prescribed for his rival; and the sooner, therefore, that Miss +Fairfax, "a most determined young lady," was sent back to Woldshire, the +better for the family plans. + +"I shall not invite Elizabeth Fairfax to prolong her visit," Lady +Latimer said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, who in his own mind was sorry she +had made it. "I am afraid that her temper is masterful." My lady was +resolved to think that Bessie was behaving very ill, not reflecting that +a young lady pursued by a lover whom she does not love is allowed to +behave worse than under ordinary circumstances. + +Bessie would have liked to be asked to stay at Fairfield longer (which +was rather poor-spirited of her), for, though she did not go so much to +her old home or to Brook as she desired and had expected, it was +something to know that they were within reach. Her sense of happiness +was not very far from perfect--the slight bitterness infused into her +joy gave it a piquancy--and Lady Latimer presently had brought to her +notice symptoms so ominous that she began to wish for the day that would +relieve her from her charge. + +One morning Mr. Cecil Burleigh was pacing the garden without his hat, +his head bent down, and his arms clasped behind him as his custom was, +when Bessie, after regarding him with pensive abstraction for several +minutes, remarked to Dora in a quaint, melancholy voice: "Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's hyacinthine locks grow thin--he is almost bald." My lady +jumped up hastily to look, and declared it nonsense--it was only the sun +shining on his head. Dora added that he was growing round-shouldered +too. + +"Why not say humpbacked at once?" exclaimed Lady Latimer angrily. Both +the girls laughed: it was very naughty. + +"But he is not humpbacked, Aunt Olympia," said the literal Dora. + +My lady walked about in a fume, moved and removed books and papers, and +tried to restrain a violent impulse of displeasure. She took up the +review that contained Harry Musgrave's paper, and said with impatience, +"Dora, how often must I beg of you to put away the books that are done +with? Surely this is done with." + +"I have not finished reading Harry's article yet: please let me take +it," said Bessie, coming forward. + +"'Harry's article'? What do you mean?" demanded Lady Latimer with +austerity: "'Mr. Harry Musgrave' would sound more becoming." + +"I forgot to tell you: the paper you and Mr. Logger were discussing the +first evening I was here was written by Mr. Harry Musgrave," said Bessie +demurely, but not without pride. + +"Oh, indeed! The crudeness Mr. Logger remarked in it is accounted for, +then," said my lady, and Bessie's triumph was abated. Also my lady +carried off the review, and she saw it no more. + +"It is only Aunt Olympia's way," whispered Dora to comfort her. "It +will go off. She is very fond of you, but you must know you are +dreadfully provoking. I wonder how you dare?" + +"And is not _she_ dreadfully provoking?" rejoined Bessie, and began to +laugh. "But I am too happy to be intimidated. She will forgive me--if +not to-day, then to-morrow, or if not to-morrow, then the day after; or +I can have patience longer. But I will _not_ be ruled by her--_never_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +_BETWEEN THEMSELVES._ + + +It was on this day, when Bessie Fairfax's happiness primed her with +courage to resist my lady's imperious will, that Harry Musgrave learnt +for a certainty he had a rival. The rector was his informant. Mr. Wiley +overtook Harry sauntering in the Forest, and asked him how he did, +adding that he regretted to hear from his mother that there was a doubt +of his being able to continue his law-studies in London, and reminding +him of his own unheeded warnings against his ambition to rise in the +world. + +"Oh, I shall pull through, I trust," replied the young man, betraying no +disquiet. "My mother is a little fanciful, as mothers often are. You +must not encourage her anxieties." + +"You look strong enough, but appearances are sometimes deceptive. Take +care of yourself--health is before everything. It was a pity you did not +win that fellowship: I don't know how you mean to live after you have +got your call to the bar. You clever young fellows who rise from the +ranks expect to carry the world before you, but it is a much harder +matter than you think. Your father cannot make you much of an +allowance?" + +Harry knew the rector's tactless way too well to be affronted now by any +remark he might make or any question he might ask. "My father has a +liberal mind," he said good-humoredly. "And a man hopes for briefs +sooner or later." + +"It is mostly later, unless he have singular ability or good +connexions. You must marry a solicitor's daughter," said the rector, +flourishing his stick. Harry said he would try to dispense with violent +expedients. They walked on a minute or two in silence, and then Mr. +Wiley said: "You have seen Miss Fairfax, of course?--she is on a visit +at Fairfield." + +"Yes. She has been at Brook," replied Harry with reticent coolness. "We +all thought her looking remarkably well." + +"Yes, beautiful--very much improved indeed. My wife was quite +astonished, but she has been living in the very best society. And have +you seen Mr. Cecil Burleigh?" + +Harry made answer that he had dined at Fairfield one evening, and had +met Mr. Cecil Burleigh there. + +"Miss Fairfax's friends must be glad she is going to marry so well--so +suitably in every point of view. It is an excellent match, and, I +understand from Lady Latimer, all but settled. She is delighted, for +they are both immense favorites with her." + +Harry Musgrave was dumb. Yet he did not believe what he heard--he could +not believe it, remembering Bessie's kind, pretty looks. Why, her very +voice had another, softer tone when she spoke to him; his name was music +from her lips. The rector went on, explaining the fame and anticipated +future of Mr. Cecil Burleigh in a vaguely confidential manner, until +they came to a spot where two ways met, and Harry abruptly said, "I was +going to Littlemire to call on Mr. Moxon, and this is my road." He held +out his hand, and was moving off when Mr. Wiley's visage put on a solemn +shade of warning: + +"It will carry you through Marsh-End. I would avoid Marsh-End just now +if I were you--a nasty, dangerous place. The fever is never long absent. +I don't go there myself at present." + +But Harry said there was a chance, then, that he might meet with his old +tutor in the hamlet, and he started away, eager to be alone and to +escape from the rector's observation, for he knew that he was betraying +himself. He went swiftly along under the sultry shade in a confused +whirl of sensations. His confidence had suddenly failed him. He had +counted on Bessie Fairfax for his comrade since he was a boy; the idea +of her was woven into all his pleasant recollections of the past and +all his expectations in the future. Since that Sunday evening in the old +sitting-room at Brook her sweet, womanly figure had been the centre of +his thoughts, his reveries. He had imagined difficulties, obstacles, but +none with her. This real difficulty, this tangible obstacle, in the +shape of Mr. Cecil Burleigh, a suitor chosen by her family and supported +by Lady Latimer, gave him pause. He could not affect to despise Mr. +Cecil Burleigh, but he vowed a vow that he would not be cheated of his +dear little Bessie unless by her own consent. Was it possible that he +was deceived in her--that he and she mistook her old childish affection +for the passion that is strong as death? No--no, it could not be. If +there was truth in her eyes, in her voice, she loved him as dearly as he +loved her, though never a word of love had been spoken between them. The +young man wrought himself up into such a state of agitation and +excitement that he never reached Marsh-End nor saw Mr. Moxon at all that +day. He turned, and bent his steps by a circuitous path to a woodland +nook where he had left his friend Christie at work a couple of hours +ago. + +"Back again so soon? Then you did not find Moxon at home," said the +artist, scarcely lifting an eye from the canvas. + +Harry flung himself on the ground beside his friend and delivered his +mind of its new burden. Christie now condescended to look at him and to +say calmly, "It is always well to know what threatens us, but there is +no need to exaggerate facts. Mr. Cecil Burleigh is a rival you may be +proud to defeat; Miss Fairfax will please herself, and I think you are a +match for him. You have the start." + +"I know Bessie is fond of me, but she is a simple, warm-hearted girl, +and is fond of all of us," said Harry with a reflective air. + +"I had no idea you were so modest. Probably she has a slight preference +for _you_." Christie went on painting, and now and then a telling touch +accentuated his sentiments. + +Harry hearkened, and grew more composed. "I wish I had her own assurance +of it," said he. + +"You had better ask her," said Christie. + +After this they were silent for a considerable space, and the picture +made progress. Then Harry began again, summing up his disadvantages: "Is +it fair to ask her? Here am I, of no account as to family or fortune, +and under a cloud as to the future, if my mother and Carnegie are +justified in their warnings--and sometimes it comes over me that they +are--why, Christie, what have I to offer her? Nothing, nothing but my +presumptuous self." + +"Let her be judge: women have to put up with a little presumption in a +lover." + +"Would it not be great presumption? Consider her relations and friends, +her rank and its concomitants. I cannot tell how much she has learnt to +value them, how necessary they have become to her. Lady Latimer, who was +good to me until the other day, is shutting her doors against me now as +too contemptible." + +"Not at all. The despotic old lady shuts her doors against you because +she is afraid of you." + +"What have I to urge except that I love her?" + +"The best of pleas. Don't fear too much. Give her leave to love you by +avowing your love--that is what a girl waits for: if you let her go back +to Woldshire without an understanding between yourselves, she will think +you care for your own pride more than for her." + +"I wish she were little Bessie at Beechhurst again, and all her finery +blown to the winds. I have not seen her for five days." + +"That must be your own fault. You don't want an ambassador? If you do, +there's the post." + +Harry was silent again. He was chiefly raising objections for the +pleasure of hearing them contradicted; of course he was not aware of +half the objections that might have been cited against him as an +aspirant to the hand of Miss Fairfax. In the depth of his heart there +was a tenacious conviction that Bessie Fairfax loved him best in the +world--with a love that had grown with her growth and strengthened with +her strength, and would maintain itself independent of his failure or +success in life. But oh, that word _failure_! It touched him with a +dreadful chill. He turned pale at it, and resolutely averted his mind +from the idea. + +He left young Christie with as little ceremony as he had rejoined him, +and walked home to Brook, entering the garden from the wood. The first +sight that met him was Bessie Fairfax standing alone under the beeches. +At the moment he thought it was an illusion, for she was all in +bluish-gray amongst the shadows; but at the sound of the gate she turned +quickly and came forward to meet him. + +"I was just beginning to feel disappointed," said she impulsively. "Lady +Latimer brought me over to say good-bye, and we were told you had gone +to Littlemire. She is in the sitting-room with your mother. I came out +here." + +Harry's face flushed so warmly that he had no need to express his joy in +words. What a lucky event it was that he had met Mr. Wiley, and had been +turned back from his visit to his old tutor! He was fatigued with +excitement and his hurried walk, and he invited Bessie to sit with him +under the beeches where they used to sit watching the little stream as +it ran by at their feet. Bessie was nothing loath--she was thinking that +this was the last time they should meet for who could tell how long--and +she complied with all her old child-like submission to him, and a +certain sweet appealing womanly dignity, which, without daunting Harry +at all, compelled him to remember that she was not any longer a child. + +The young people were not visible from the sitting-room. Lady Latimer's +head was turned another way when Harry and Bessie met, but the instant +she missed her young charge she got up and looked out of the lattice. +The boles and sweeping branches of the great beeches hid the figures at +their feet, and Mrs. Musgrave, observing that dear Bessie was very fond +of the manor-garden, and had probably strolled into the wilderness, my +lady accepted the explanation and resumed her seat and her patience. + +Meanwhile, Harry did not waste his precious opportunity. He had this +advantage, that when he saw Bessie he saw only the fair face that he +worshipped, and thought nothing of her adventitious belongings, while in +her absence he saw her surrounded by them, and himself set at a vast +conventional distance. He said that the four years since she left +Beechhurst seemed but as one day, now they were together again in the +old familiar places, and she replied that she was glad he thought so, +for she thought so too. "I still call the Forest home, though I do not +pine in exile. I return to it the day after to-morrow," she told him. + +"Good little philosophical Bessie!" cried Harry, and relapsed into his +normal state of masculine superiority. + +Then they talked of themselves, past, present, and future--now with +animation, now again with dropped and saddened voices. The afternoon sun +twinkled in the many-paned lattices of the old house in the background, +and the brook sang on as it had sung from immemorial days before a stone +of the house was built. Harry gazed rather mournfully at the ivied walls +during one of their sudden silences, and then he told Bessie that the +proprietor was ill, and the manor would have a new owner by and by. + +"I trust he will not want to turn out my father and mother and pull it +down, but he is an improving landlord, and has built some excellent ugly +farmsteads on his other property. I have a clinging to it, and the +doctor says it would be well for me had I been born and bred in almost +any other place." + +Bessie sighed, and said deprecatingly, "Harry, you look as strong as a +castle. If it was Mr. Christie they were always warning, I should not +wonder, but _you_!" + +"But _me_! Little Christie looks as though a good puff of wind might +blow him away, and he is as tough as a pin-wire. I stand like a tower, +and they tell me the foundations are sinking. It sounds like a fable to +frighten me." + +"Harry dear, it is not serious; don't believe it. Everybody has to take +a little care. You must give up London and hard study if they try you. +We will all help you to bear the disappointment: I know it would be +cruel, but if you must, you must! Leaning towers, I've heard, stand +hundreds of years, and serve their purpose as well as towers that stand +erect." + +"Ah, Bessie, cunning little comforter! Tell me which is the worse--a +life that is a failure or death?" said Harry, watching the gyrations of +a straw that the eddies of the rivulet were whirling by. + +"Oh, death, death--there is no remedy for death." Bessie shuddered. +There was repulsion in her face as well as awe. + +Harry felt surprised: this was his own feeling, but women, he thought, +had more natural resignation. Not so, however, his young comrade. She +loved life, and hoped to see good days. He reminded her that she had +lost both her parents early. + +"Yes," she said, "but my other father and mother prevented me suffering +from their loss. I scarcely recollect it, I was such a happy child. It +would be different now if any of those, young like myself, that I have +grown up with and love very much, were to pass out of sight, and I had +to think that nowhere in the world could I find them any more." + +"It would touch you more personally. There was a young fellow drowned at +Oxford whom I knew: we were aghast for a day, but the next we were on +the river again. I recollect how bitterly you cried the morning your +father was buried; all the afternoon you refused to be comforted, even +by a sweet black puppy that I had brought over for the purpose, but in +the evening you took to it and carried it about in your pinafore. Oh, +God and time are very good to us. We lose one love, another steps in to +fill the void, and soon we do not remember that ever there was a void." + +Bessie was gazing straight away into heaven, her eyes full of sunshiny +tears, thoughts of the black puppy struggling with more pathetic +thoughts. "We are very dismal, Harry," said she presently. "Is the moral +of it how easily we should be consoled for each other's loss? Would you +not pity me if I died? I should almost die of your death, I think." + +"And if I am to live and never do any good, never to be famous, Bessie? +If I come to you some day beaten and jaded--no honors and glories, as I +used to promise--" + +"Why, Harry, unless it were your mother no one would be kinder to you +than I would," she said with exquisite tenderness, turning to look in +his face, for he spoke in a strained, low voice as if it hurt him. + +He took her hands, she not refusing to yield them, and said, "It is my +belief that we are as fond of each other as ever we were, Bessie, and +that neither of us will ever care half so much for anybody else?" + +"It is my belief too, Harry." Bessie's eyes shone and her tongue +trembled, but how happy she was! And he bowed his head for several +minutes in silence. + +There was a rustling in the bushes behind them, a bird perhaps, but the +noise recalled them to the present world--that and a whisper from +Bessie, smiling again for pure content: "Harry dear, we must not make +fools of ourselves now; my lady might descend upon us at any moment." + +Harry sighed, and looked up with great content. "It is a compact, +Bessie," said he, holding out his right hand. + +"Trust me, Harry," said she, and laid hers softly in his open palm. + +Mrs. Musgrave's voice was heard from the sitting-room window: "Bessie! +Bessie dear! where are you?--Lady Latimer wishes to go. Make haste--come +in." A bit of Bessie's blue-gray dress had betrayed her whereabouts. And +lo! the two young people emerged from the shelter of the trees, and +quite at their leisure sauntered up the lawn, talking with a sweet gay +confidence, just as they used to talk when they were boy and girl, and +Bessie came to tea at Brook, and they were the best friends in the +world. Harry's mother guessed in a moment what had happened. Lady +Latimer caught one glance and loftily averted her observation. + +They had to go round to the hall-door, and they did not hurry +themselves. They took time to assure one another how deep was their +happiness, their mutual confidence--to promise a frequent exchange of +letters, and to fear that they would not meet again before Bessie left +Fairfield. Lady Latimer was seated in the carriage when they appeared in +sight. Bessie got in meekly, and was bidden to be quicker. She smiled at +Harry, who looked divinely glad, and as they drove off rapidly +recollected that she had not said good-bye to his mother. + +"Never mind--Harry will explain," she said aloud: evidently her thoughts +were astray. + +"Explain what? I am afraid there are many things that need explanation," +said my lady austerely, and not another word until they reached home. +But Bessie's heart was in perfect peace, and her countenance reflected +nothing but the sunshine. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +_A LONG, DULL DAY._ + + +That evening Bessie Fairfax was charming, she was _so_ happy. She was +good and gracious again to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and she was never +prettier. He basked in her content, without trying to understand +it--thought more than ever what a buoyant, sweet-tempered woman she +would be, to give a man rest and refreshment at home, whose active life +must be spent in the arid ways of the political world. Dora had her +conjectures, and whispered them, but Bessie made no revelation, gave no +confidences. + +It must be _ages_ before her league with Harry Musgrave could be +concluded, and therefore let it be still, as it had been always, +suspected, but not confessed--unless she were over-urged by Harry's +rival and her northern kinsfolk and friends. Then she would declare her +mind, but not before. Lady Latimer asked no questions. Her woman's +discernment was not at fault, but she had her own opinion of youthful +constancy and early loves and early vows, and believed that when they +were not to be approved they were to be most judiciously ignored. + +The next day was so fully occupied with engagements made beforehand that +Bessie had no chance of going again to Beechhurst, but she did not make +a grief of it--she could not have made a grief of anything just then. On +the last morning, however, to her dear surprise, the doctor stopped at +the door for a parting word of her mother's love and his own, and their +hopes that she would soon be coming amongst them again; and when she +went away an hour later she went as joyous as she had come, though she +knew that a report of her untoward behavior had gone before her, and +that the probabilities were she would enter into an atmosphere of clouds +the moment she reached Abbotsmead. + +But it did not prove so. Lady Latimer had written cautiously and +kindly--had not been able to give any assurance of Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +success, but had a feeling that it must come to pass. Elizabeth was a +sweet girl, though she had the self-will of a child; in many points she +was more of a child than my lady had supposed--in her estimate of +individuals, and of their weight and position in the world, for +instance--but this was a fault that knowledge of the world would cure. + +Mr. Fairfax was pleased to welcome his granddaughter home again, and +especially pleased to see no sadness in her return. The Forest was ever +so much nearer now--not out of her world at all. Bessie had travelled +that road once, and would travel it again. Every experience shortens +such roads, lessens such difficulties between true friends. Bessie's +acquaintances came to call upon her, and she talked of the pleasure it +had been to her to revisit the scenes of her childhood, of the few +changes that had happened there since she came away, and of the +hospitality of Lady Latimer. + +The lime trees were turning yellow and thin of leaf; there was a fire +all day in the octagon parlor. It was autumn in Woldshire, soon to be +winter. It seemed to Bessie on her return like resuming the dull routine +of a life that had gone on for a long while. Mrs. Stokes, as her nearest +and most neighborly neighbor, often ran across the park of an afternoon, +but Bessie's best delight was at post-time in the morning. Mr. Fairfax +never came down stairs to breakfast, and she had Harry Musgrave's +letters all to herself, undiscovered and undisturbed. + +The squire never regained his strength or his perfect moral control, and +the peculiar tempers of his previous life seemed to be exaggerated as +his natural force decayed. Mr. Oliver Smith was his most frequent and +welcome visitor. They talked together of events past and of friends long +since dead. Perhaps this was a little wearisome and painful now and then +to Mr. Oliver Smith, who retained his youthful sprightliness amidst more +serious sentiments. He would have had his old friend contemplate the +great future that was approaching, instead of the unalterable past. + +One day he said to Bessie, "I think your grandfather wanders in his mind +sometimes; I fear he is failing." + +"I don't know," was her reflective answer. "His thoughts often run on +his sister Dorothy and Lady Latimer: I hear him mutter to himself the +same words often, 'It was a lifelong mistake, Olympia.' But that is +true, is it not? He is as clear and collected as ever when he dictates +to me a letter on business; he makes use of me as his secretary." + +"Well, well! Let us hope, then, God may spare him to us for many years +to come," said Mr. Oliver Smith, with that conventional propriety of +speech which helps us through so many hard moments when feeling does not +dictate anything real to say. + +Bessie dwelt for some days after on that pious aspiration of her +grandfather's old friend, but the ache and tedium of life did not return +upon her. Her sense of duty and natural affection were very strong. She +told herself that if it were her lot to watch for many years beside this +dwindling flame, it was a lot of God's giving, not of her own seeking, +and therefore good. The letters that came to her from Beechhurst and +Caen breathed nothing but encouragement to love and patience, and Harry +Musgrave's letters were a perpetual fount of refreshment. What +delightful letters they were! He told, her whatever he thought would +interest or amuse her or make his life palpable to her. He sent her +books, he sent her proof-sheets to be read and returned: if Bessie had +not loved him so devotedly and all that belonged to him, she might have +thought his literature a tax on her leisure. It was a wonder to all who +knew her (without knowing her secret fund of joy) what a cheerful +countenance she wore through this dreary period of her youth. Within the +house she had no support but the old servants, and little change or +variety from without. Those kind old ladies, Miss Juliana and Miss +Charlotte Smith, were very good in coming to see her, and always +indulged her in a talk of Lady Latimer and Fairfield; Miss Burleigh +visited her occasionally for a day, but Lady Angleby kept out of the +shadow on principle--she could not bear to see it lengthening. She +enjoyed life very much, and would not be reminded of death if she could +help it. Her nephew spent Christmas at Norminster, and paid more than +one visit to Abbotsmead. Miss Fairfax was as glad as ever to see him. He +came like a breath of fresh air from the living outer world, and made no +pretensions to what he knew she had not to give. The engagement between +Miss Julia Gardiner and Mr. Brotherton had fallen through, for some +reason that was never fully explained, and Miss Burleigh began to think +her dear brother would marry poor Julia after all. + +Another of Bessie's pleasures was a day in Minster Court. One evening +she brought home a photograph of the three boys, and the old squire put +on his spectacles to look at it. She had ceased to urge reconciliation, +but she still hoped for it earnestly; and it came in time, but not at +all as she expected. One day--it was in the early spring--she was called +to her grandfather's room, and there she found Mr. John Short sitting in +council and looking exceedingly discontented. The table was strewn with +parchments and papers, and she was invited to take a seat in front of +the confusion. Then an abrupt question was put to her: Would she prefer +to have settled upon her the Abbey Lodge, which Colonel Stokes now +occupied as a yearly tenant, or a certain house in the suburbs of +Norminster going out towards Brentwood? + +"In what event?" she asked, coloring confusedly. + +"In the event of my death or your own establishment in life," said her +grandfather. "Your uncle Laurence will bring his family here, and I do +not imagine that you will choose to be one with them long; you will +prefer a home of your own." + +The wave of color passed from Bessie's face. "Dear grandpapa, don't talk +of such remote events; it is time enough to think of changes and decide +when the time comes," said she. + +"That is no answer, Elizabeth. Prudent people make their arrangements in +anticipation of changes, and their will in anticipation of death. Speak +plainly: do you like the lodge as a residence, or the vicinity of +Norminster?" + +"Dear grandpapa, if you were no longer here I should go home to the +Forest," Bessie said, and grew very pale. + +The old squire neither moved nor spoke for several minutes. He stared +out of the window, then he glanced at the lawyer and said, "You hear, +Short? now you will be convinced. She has not taken root enough to care +to live here any longer. She will go back to the Forest; all this time +she has been in exile, and cut off from those whom alone she loves. Why +should I keep her waiting at Abbotsmead for a release that may be slow +to come? Go now, Elizabeth, go now, if to stay wearies you;" and he +waved her to the door imperatively. + +Bessie rose trembling and left the room, tears and indignation +struggling for the mastery. "Oh, grandpapa! why will you say such +things?" was all her remonstrance, but she felt that there are some +wrongs in this life very hard to bear. + +Mr. John Short sat mute for some time after the young lady's departure. +The squire gloomed sorrowfully: "From first to last my course is nothing +but disappointment." + +"I wish, sir, that you could be prevailed on to see Mr. Laurence?" +suggested the lawyer. "His wife is a very good little lady, and the boys +you might be proud of. Pray, sir, give yourself that chance of happiness +for your closing days." + +"I had other plans. There will be no marriage, Short: I understand +Elizabeth. In warning me that she will return to the Forest when I am +gone, she just tells me that my hopes of her and Burleigh are all +moonshine. Well, let Laurence come. Let him come and take possession +with his children; they can leave me my corner of the house in peace. I +shall not need it very long. And Elizabeth can go _home_ when she +pleases." + +Mr. Fairfax's resentment was very bitter against Bessie, at first, for +the frank exposition she had made of her future intentions. She had +meant no unkindness, but simple honesty. He did not take it so, and when +her customary duty and service brought her next into his presence he +made her feel how deeply she had offended. He rejected her offer to read +to him, put aside her helping hand, and said he would have Jonquil to +assist him; she need not remain. He uttered no accusation against her +and no reproach; he gave her no opportunity of softening her abrupt +announcement; he just set her at a distance, as it were, and made +himself unapproachable. Bessie betook herself in haste to her white +parlor, to hide the blinding tears in her eyes and the mortification in +her heart. "And he wonders that so few love him!" she said to herself, +not without anger even in her pitiful yearning to be friends again. + +A week of alienation followed this scene, and Bessie was never more +miserable. Day by day she tried to resume her loving care of her +grandfather, and day by day she was coldly repulsed. Jonquil, Macky, +Mrs. Betts, all sympathized in silence; their young lady was less easy +to condole with now than when she was fresh from school. The old squire +was as wretched as he made his granddaughter. He had given permission +for his son to come to Abbotsmead, and he seemed in no haste to embrace +the permission. When he came at last, he brought little Justus with him, +but he had to say that it was only for a few hours. In fact, his wife +was extremely unwilling to abandon their happy, independent home in the +Minster Court, and he was equally unwilling to force her inclination. +Mr. Fairfax replied, "You know best," and gazed at his grandson, who, +from between his father's knees, gazed at him again without any advance +towards good-fellowship. A formal reconciliation ensued, but that was +all. For the kindness that springs out of a warm, affectionate nature +the old squire had to look to Elizabeth, and without any violent +transition they glided back into their former habits and relations. +Bessie was saddened a little by her late experiences, but she was not +quite new to the lesson that the world is a place of unsatisfied hopes +and defeated intentions. + +Mr. John Short was often to and fro between Abbotsmead and Norminster +during that summer, and an idea prevailed in the household that the +squire was altering his will again. His son Frederick had died +intestate, and the squire had taken possession of what he left. The poor +lady in seclusion at Caen died also about this time, and a large +addition was made to Mr. Fairfax's income--so large that his loss by the +Durham lawsuit was more than balanced. The lawyer looked far from +pleasant while transacting his client's business. It was true that Mr. +Frederick Fairfax had left no will, but he had expressed certain +distinct intentions, and these intentions, to the indignant astonishment +of many persons, his father would not carry out. Mr. Forbes talked to +him of the sacredness of his son's wishes, but the squire had a purpose +for the money, and was obstinate in his refusal to relinquish it. Some +people decided that thus he meant to enrich his granddaughter without +impoverishing Abbotsmead for his successor, but Mr. John Short's manner +to the young lady was tinctured with a respectful compassion that did +not augur well for her prospects. + +Bessie paid very little heed to the speculations of which she could not +fail to hear something. So long as her grandfather was tolerably kind +to her she asked no more from the present, and she left the future to +take care of itself. But it cannot be averred that he was invariably +kind. There seemed to lurk in his mind a sense of injury, which he +visited upon her in sarcastic gibes and allusions to the Forest, +taunting her with impatience to have done with him and begone to her +dearer friends. Bessie resented this for a little while, but by and by +she ceased to be affected, and treated it as the pettishness of a sick +old man, never used to be considerate for others. He kept her very much +confined and gave her scant thanks for her care of him. If Mr. Cecil +Burleigh admired patience and forbearance in a woman, he had the +opportunity of studying a fair example of both in her. He pitied her +secretly, but she put on no martyr-airs. "It is nothing. Oh no, +grandpapa is not difficult--it is only his way. Most people are testy +when they are ill," she would plead, and she believed what she said. The +early sense of repulsion and disappointment once overcome, she was too +sensible to bewail the want of unselfish affection where it had never +existed before. + +The squire had certain habits of long standing--habits of coldness, +distance, reserve, and he never changed materially. He survived through +the ensuing autumn and winter, and finally sank during the +north-easterly weather of the following spring, just two years after the +death of his son Frederick. Jonquil and Macky, who had been all his life +about him, were his most acceptable attendants. He did not care to have +his son Laurence with him, and when the children came over it was not by +his invitation. Mr. Forbes visited him almost daily, and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh came down from London twice at his request. Bessie remitted no +act of tender thoughtfulness; and one day, shortly before the end, he +said to her, "You are a good girl, Elizabeth." She smiled and said, "Am +I, grandpapa?" but his persistent coldness had brought back her shy +reticence, and neither said any more. Perhaps there was compunction in +the old man's mind--the cast of his countenance was continually that of +regret--but there was no drawing near in heart or confidence ever again, +and the squire died in the isolation of feeling with which living he had +chosen to surround himself. The world, his friends, neighbors, and +servants said that he died in honor respected by all who knew him; but +for long and long after Bessie could never think of his death without +tears--not because he had died, but because so little sorrow followed +him. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +_THE SQUIRE'S WILL._ + + +Throughout his life Mr. Fairfax had guided his actions by a certain rule +of justice that satisfied himself. The same rule was evident in his last +will. His granddaughter had given him to understand that she should +return to the Forest and cast in her lot with the humble friends from +amongst whom he had taken her, and the provision he made for her was +consonant with that determination. He bequeathed to her a sum of five +thousand pounds--a sufficient portion, as he considered, for that rank +in life--and to Mr. Cecil Burleigh he bequeathed the handsome fortune +that it was intended she should bring him in marriage. He had the dower +without the bride, and though Lady Angleby and his sister quietly +intimated to astonished friends that they had good reason to hope Miss +Fairfax would ultimately be no loser by her grandfather's will, her +uncle Laurence was not the only person by many who judged her unkindly +and unfairly treated. But it was impossible to dispute the old squire's +ability to dispose of his property, or his right to dispose of it as he +pleased. He had been mainly instrumental in raising Mr. Cecil Burleigh +to the position he occupied, and there was a certain obligation incurred +to support him in it. If Mr. Fairfax had chosen to make a son of him, no +one had a right to complain. No one did complain; the expression of +opinion was extremely guarded. + +Bessie was informed of the terms of her grandfather's will in the first +shock of surprise; afterward her uncle Laurence reflected that it would +have been wise to keep them from her, but the deed was done. She +received the news without emotion: she blushed, put up her eyebrows, and +smiled as she said, "Then I am a poor young woman again." She saw at +once what was absurd, pathetic, vexatious in her descent from the +dignity of riches, but she was not angry. She never uttered a word of +blame or reproach against her grandfather, and when it was indignantly +recalled to her that Mr. Cecil Burleigh was put into possession of what +ought to have been hers, she answered, "There is no ought in the matter. +Grandpapa had a lively interest in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's career, for the +sake of the country as well as for his own sake, and if you ask me my +sentiments I must confess that I feel the money grandpapa has left him +is well bestowed. It would be a shame that such a man should be hampered +by mean cares and insufficient fortune." + +"Oh, if you are satisfied that is enough," was the significant +rejoinder, and Lady Angleby's hopes had a wider echo. + +To Mr. Cecil Burleigh his old friend's bequest was a boon to be thankful +for, and he was profoundly thankful. It set him above troublesome +anxieties and lifted his private life into the sphere of comfort. But +his first visit to Abbotsmead and first meeting with Miss Fairfax after +it was communicated to him tried his courage not a little. The intimacy +that had been kept up, and even improved during Mr. Fairfax's decline, +had given him no grounds for hoping better success with Elizabeth as a +lover than before, and yet he was convinced that in leaving him this +fine fortune the squire had continued to indulge his expectations of +their ultimate union. That Elizabeth would be inclined towards him in +the slightest degree by the fact of his gaining the inheritance that she +had forfeited, he never for one moment dreamed; the contrary might be +possible, but not that. Amongst the many and important duties and +interests that engaged him now he had neither leisure nor desire for +sentimental philandering. He was a very busy man of the world, and +wished for the rest of a home. Insensibly his best thoughts reverted to +his dear Julia, never married, still his very good friend. He approved +the sweet rosy face of Elizabeth Fairfax, her bright spirit and loving, +unselfish disposition, but he found it impossible to flatter himself +that she would ever willingly become his wife. Lady Angleby insisted +that honor demanded a renewal of his offer, but Elizabeth never gave him +an opportunity; and there was an end of his uncertainties when she said +one day to his sister (after receiving an announcement of her own +approaching marriage to Mr. Forbes), "And there is nothing now to stand +between your brother and Miss Julia Gardiner. I am truly glad grandpapa +left him an independence, they have been so faithful to each other." + +Miss Burleigh looked up surprised, as if she thought Bessie must be +laughing at them. And Bessie was laughing. "Not quite constant perhaps, +but certainly faithful," she persisted. But Mr. Cecil Burleigh had +probably appreciated her blossoming youth more kindly than his dear +Julia had appreciated her autumnal widower. Bessie meant to convey that +neither had any right to complain of the other, and that was true. Miss +Burleigh carried Miss Fairfax's remarks to her brother, and after that +they were privately agreed that it would be poor Julia after all. + +Mr. Laurence Fairfax insisted that his niece should live at Abbotsmead, +and continue in possession of the white suite until she was of age. He +was her guardian, and would take no denial. + +"It wants but three months to that date," she told him. + +"Your home is here until you marry, Elizabeth," he rejoined in a tone +that forbade contradiction. "You shall visit Lady Latimer, but subject +to permission. Remember you are a Fairfax. Though you may go back to the +Forest, it is a delusion to imagine that you can live comfortably in the +crowded household where you were happy as a child. You have been six +years absent; three of them you have spent in the luxurious ease of +Abbotsmead. You have acquired the tastes and habits of your own class--a +very different class. You must look to me now: your pittance is not +enough for the common necessaries of life." + +"Not so very different a class, Uncle Laurence, and fortunately I am not +in bondage to luxurious ease," Bessie said. "But I will not be perverse. +Changes come without seeking, and I am of an adaptable disposition. The +other day I was supposed to be a great heiress--to-day I have no more +than a bare competence." + +"Not even that, but if you marry suitably you may be sure that I shall +make you a suitable settlement," rejoined her kinsman. Bessie speculated +in silence and many times again what her uncle Laurence might mean by +"suitably," but they had no explanation, and the occasion passed. + +Bessie's little fortune was vested in the hands of trustees, and settled +absolutely to her own use. She could not anticipate her income nor make +away with it, which Mr. Carnegie said was a very good thing. Beyond that +remark, and a generous reminder that her old nest under the thatch was +ready for her whenever she liked to return and take possession, nothing +was said in the letters from Beechhurst about her grandfather's will or +her new vicissitude. She had some difficulty in writing to announce her +latest change to Harry Musgrave, but he wrote back promptly and +decisively to set her heart at rest, telling her that to his notions her +fortune was a very pretty fortune, and avowing a prejudice against being +maintained by his wife: he would greatly prefer that she should be +dependent upon him. Bessie, who was a loving woman far more than a proud +or ambitious one, was pleased by his assurance, and in answering him +again she confessed that would have been her choice too. Nevertheless, +she became rather impatient to see him and talk the matter over--the +more so because Harry manifested little curiosity to learn anything of +her family affairs unless they immediately affected herself. He told her +that he should be able to go down to Brook at the end of August, and he +begged her to meet him there. This she promised, and it was understood +between them that if she was not invited to Fairfield she would go to +the doctor's house, even though the boys might be at home for their +holidays. + +Bessie was long enough at Abbotsmead after her grandfather's death to +realize how that event affected her own position there. The old servants +had been provided for by their old master, and they left--Jonquil, +Macky, Mrs. Betts, and others their contemporaries. Bessie missed their +friendly faces, and dispensed with the services of a maid. Then Mrs. +Fairfax objected to Joss in the house, lest he should bite the children, +and Janey and Ranby were not entirely at her beck and call as formerly. +The incompetent Sally, who sang a sweet cradle-song, became quite a +personage and sovereign in the nursery, and was jealous of Miss +Fairfax's intrusion into her domain. It was inevitable and natural, but +Bessie appreciated better now the forethought of her grandfather in +wishing to provide her with a roof of her own. Abbotsmead under its new +squire, all his learning and philosophy notwithstanding, promised to +become quite a house of the world again, for his beautiful young wife +was proving of a most popular character, and attracted friends about her +with no effort. Instead of old Lady Angleby, the Hartwell people and the +Chivertons, came the Tindals, Edens, Raymonds, Lefevres, and Wynards; +and Miss Fairfax felt herself an object of curiosity amongst them as the +young lady who had been all but disinherited for her obstinate refusal +to marry the man of her grandfather's choice. She was generally liked, +but she was not just then in the humor to cultivate anybody's intimacy. +Mrs. Stokes was still her chief resource when she was solitary. + +She had a private grief and anxiety of her own, of which she could speak +to none. One day her expected letter from Harry Musgrave did not come; +it was the first time he had failed her since their compact was made. +She wrote herself as usual, and asked why she was neglected. In reply +she received a letter, not from Harry himself, but from his friend +Christie, who was nursing him through an attack of inflammation +occasioned by a chill from remaining in his wet clothes after an upset +on the river. She gathered from it that Harry had been ill and suffering +for nearly a fortnight, but that he was better, though very weak, and +that if Christie had been permitted to do as he wished, Mrs. Musgrave +would have been sent for, but her son was imperative against it. He did +not think it was necessary to put her to that distress and +inconvenience, and as he was now in a fair way of recovery it was his +particular desire that she should not be alarmed and made nervous by any +information of what he had passed through. But he would not keep it from +his dear Bessie, who had greater firmness, and who might rest assured he +was well cared for, as Christie had brought him to his own house, and +his old woman was a capital cook--a very material comfort for a +convalescent. + +With a recollection of the warnings of a year and a half ago, Bessie +could not but ponder this news of Harry's illness with grave distress. +She wrote to Mr. Carnegie, and enclosed the letter for his opinion. Mr. +Carnegie respected her confidence, and told her that from the name of +the physician mentioned by Christie as in attendance on his patient he +was in the best possible hands. She confessed to Harry what she had +done, and he found no fault with her, but his next letter was in a vein +of melancholy humor from beginning to end. He was going back, he said, +to his dismal chambers, his law-books and his scribbling, and she was to +send him a very bright letter indeed to cheer him in his solitude. How +Bessie wished she could have flown herself to cheer him! And now, too, +she half regretted her poverty under her grandfather's will, that +deferred all hope of his rescue from London smoke and toil till he had +made the means of rescue for himself. But she gave him the pleasure of +knowing what she would do if she could. + +Thus the summer months lapsed away. There was no hiatus in their +correspondence again, but Harry told her that he had a constant fever on +him and was longing for home and rest. Once he wrote from Richmond, +whither he had gone with Christie, "The best fellow in the +universe--love him, dear Bessie, for my sake"--and once he spoke of +going to Italy for the winter, and of newspaper letters that were to pay +the shot. He was sad, humorous, tender by turns, but Bessie missed +something. There were allusions to the vanity of man's life and joy, now +and then there was a word of philosophy for future consolation, but of +present hope there was nothing. Her eyes used to grow dim over these +letters: she understood that Harry was giving in, that he found his life +too hard for him, and that he was trying to prepare her and himself for +this great disappointment. + +When Parliament rose Mr. Cecil Burleigh came down to Norminster and paid +a visit to Abbotsmead. He was the bearer of an invitation to Brentwood +and his sister's wedding, but Miss Fairfax was not able to accept it. +She had just accepted an invitation to Fairfield. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +_TENDER AND TRUE._ + + +Lady Latimer was in possession of all the facts and circumstances of her +guest's position when she arrived at Fairfield. Her grandfather's will +was notorious, and my lady did not entirely disapprove of it, as +Bessie's humbler friends did, for she still cherished expectations in +Mr. Cecil Burleigh's interest, and was not aware how far he was now from +entertaining any on his own account. Though she had convinced herself +that there was an unavowed engagement between Mr. Harry Musgrave and +Miss Fairfax, she was resolved to treat it and speak of it as a very +slight thing indeed, and one that must be set aside without weak +tenderness. Having such clear and decided views on the affair, she was +not afraid to state them even to Bessie herself. + +Harry Musgrave had not yet arrived at Brook, but after a day devoted to +her mother Bessie's next opportunity for a visit was devoted to Harry's +mother. She mentioned to Lady Latimer where she was going, and though my +lady looked stern she did not object. On Bessie's return, however, she +found something to say, and cast off all reserves: "Mr. Harry Musgrave +has not come, but he is coming. Had I known beforehand, I should have +preferred to have you here in his absence. Elizabeth, I shall consider +that young man very deficient in honorable feeling if he attempt to +interfere between you and your true interest." + +"That I am sure he never will," said Bessie with animation. + +"He is not over-modest. If you are advised by me you will be distant +with him--you will give him no advantage by which he may imagine himself +encouraged. Any foolish promise that you exchanged when you were last +here must be forgotten." + +Bessie replied with much quiet dignity: "You know, Lady Latimer, that I +was not brought up to think rank and riches essential, and the +experience I have had of them has not been so enticing that I should +care to sacrifice for their sake a true and tried affection. Harry +Musgrave and I are dear friends, and, since you speak to me so frankly, +I will tell you that we propose to be friends for life." + +Lady Latimer grew very red, very angry: "Do you tell me that you will +marry that young man--without birth, without means, without a profession +even? What has he, or is he, that should tempt you to throw away the +fine position that awaits your acceptance?" + +"He has a real kindness for me, a real unselfish love, and I would +rather be enriched with that than be ever so exalted. It is an old +promise. I always did love Harry Musgrave, and never anybody else." + +Lady Latimer fumed, walked about and sat down again: "How are you to +live?" + +"I don't know," said Bessie cheerfully. "Like other young people--partly +on our prospects. But we do not talk of marrying yet." + +"It is a relief to hear that you do not talk of marrying yet, though how +you can dream of marrying young Mr. Musgrave at all, when you have Mr. +Cecil Burleigh at your feet, is to me a strange, incomprehensible +infatuation." + +"Mr. Cecil Burleigh is not at my feet any longer. He has got up and gone +back to Miss Julia Gardiner's feet, which he ought never to have left. +Grandpapa's will has the effect of making two charming people happy, and +I am glad of it." + +"Is it possible?" said Lady Latimer in a low, chagrined voice. "Then you +have lost him. I presume that you felt the strain of such high +companionship too severe for you? Early habits cling very close." + +"He had no fascination for me; it was an effort sometimes." + +"You must have been carrying on a correspondence with Mr. Harry Musgrave +all this while." + +"We have corresponded during the last year," said Bessie calmly. + +"I blame myself that I ever gave the opportunity for a renewal of your +old friendliness. That is the secret of your wilfulness." + +"I loved Harry best--that is the secret of it," said Bessie; and she +turned away to close the discussion. + +It was a profound mortification to Lady Latimer to hear within the week +from various quarters that Mr. Cecil Burleigh was at Ryde, and to all +appearance on the happiest terms with Miss Julia Gardiner. And in fact +they were quietly married one morning by special license, and the next +news of them was that they were travelling in the Tyrol. + +It was about a week after this, when Bessie was spending a few hours +with her mother, that she heard of Harry Musgrave's arrival at Brook. It +was the doctor who brought the intelligence. He came into the little +drawing-room where his wife and Bessie were sitting, and said, "I called +at Brook in passing and saw poor Harry." + +"Well, Thomas, and how is he?" inquired Mrs. Carnegie in the anxious +tone a kind voice takes when asking after the health of a friend who may +be in a critical way. Bessie dropped her work and looked from one to the +other. + +The doctor did not answer directly, but, addressing Bessie, he said, +"You must not be shocked, my dear, when you see Harry Musgrave." + +"What is the matter? I have heard nothing: is he ill again?" cried +Bessie. + +"He must never go back to London," said Mr. Carnegie with a great sigh. + +"Is it so bad as that? Poor Harry!" said his wife in a sad, suppressed +tone. Bessie said nothing: her throat ached, her eyes burnt, but she was +too stunned and bewildered to inquire further, and yet she thought she +had been prepared for something like this. + +"He asked after you, Bessie, and when you would go to see him," the +doctor went on. + +"I will go now. It is not too late? he is not too tired? will he be +glad?" Bessie said, all in a breath. + +"Yes, he wants to talk to you; but you will have to walk all the way, +dear, and alone, for I have to go the other road." + +"Oh, the walk will not hurt me. And when I have seen him I will go back +to Fairfield. But tell me what ails him: has he been over-working, or is +it the results of his illness?" Bessie was very earnest to know all +there was to be known. + +"Work is not to blame: the lad was always more or less delicate, though +his frame was so powerful," Mr. Carnegie said with gravity. "He is out +of spirits, and he has had a warning to beware of the family complaint. +That is not to say it has marked him yet--he may live for years, with +care and prudence live to a good old age--but there is no public career +before him; and it is a terrible prospect, this giving up and coming +down, to a young fellow of his temper. His mother sits and looks at him, +beats on her knee, deplores the money spent on his college education, +and frets; you must try your hand at some other sort of consolation, +Bessie, for that will never do. Now, if you are going, my dear, you had +better start." + +Mrs. Carnegie wished she could have offered herself as Bessie's +companion, but she would have been an impediment rather than a help, and +Bessie set out alone. She had gone that way to Brook many and many a +time, but never quite alone before. It seemed, at first, strange to her +to be walking across the open heath by herself, and yet she felt, +somehow, as if it had all happened before--perhaps in a dream. It was a +warm afternoon towards six o'clock, and the August glow of the heather +in blossom spread everywhere like a purple sea. At the gate of the +Forest Farm the cows were gathered, with meek patience expecting their +call to the milking-shed; but after she passed under the shade of the +trees beyond Great-Ash Ford she met not a creature until she came in +sight of the wicket opening into the wood from the manor-garden. And +there was Harry Musgrave himself. + +Approaching over the turf with her light swift foot, Bessie drew quite +near to him unheard, and saw him before he saw her. He had seated +himself on a fallen tree, and leant his head on his hand in an easy +attitude; his countenance was abstracted rather than sad, and his eyes, +fixed on the violet and amber of the sky in the west, were full of +tranquil watching. Bessie's voice as she cried out his name was +tremulous with joy, and her face as he turned and saw her was beautiful +with the flush of young love's delight. + +"I was waiting for you. I knew you would come, my dear, my dear!" was +his greeting. They went into the garden hand in hand, silent: they +looked at each other with assured happiness. Harry said, "You are all in +black, Bessie." + +"Yes, for poor grandpapa: don't you remember? I will put it off +to-morrow if you dislike it." + +"Put it off; I _do_ dislike it: you have worn it long enough." They +directed their steps to their favorite seat under the beeches, but Mrs. +Musgrave, restless since her son's arrival, and ever on the watch, came +down to them with a plea that they would avoid the damp ground and +falling dew. The ground was dry as dust, and the sun would not set yet +for a good hour. + +"There is the sitting-room if you want to be by yourselves," she said +plaintively. "Perhaps you'll be able to persuade Harry to show some +sense, Bessie Fairfax, and feeling for his health: he won't listen to +his mother." + +She followed them into the spacious old room, and would have shut the +lattices because the curtains were gently flapping in the evening +breeze, but Harry protested: "Mother dear, let us have air--it is life +and pleasure to me. After the sultry languor of town this is delicious." + +"There you go, Harry, perverse as ever! He never could be made to mind a +draught, Bessie; and though he has just been told that consumption is in +the family, and carried off his uncle Walter--every bit as fine a young +man as himself--he pays no heed. He might as well have stopped on the +farm from the beginning, if this was to be the end. I am more mortified +than tongue can tell." + +Harry stood gazing at her with a pitiful patience, and said kindly, "You +fear too much, mother. I shall live to give you more trouble yet." + +"Even trouble's precious if that's all my son is likely to give me. I +would rather have trouble than nothing." She went out, closing the door +softly as if she were leaving a sick room. Bessie felt very sorry for +her, and when she looked at Harry again, and saw the expression of +helpless, painful regret in his face, she could have wept for them both. + +"Poor mother! she is bitterly disappointed in me, Bessie," he said, +dropping into one of the huge old elbow-chairs. + +"Oh, Harry, it is all her love! She will get over this, and you will +repay her hurt pride another day," cried Bessie, eager to comfort him. + +"Shall I, Bessie? But how? but when? We must take counsel together. +They have been telling me it is selfish and a sacrifice and unmanly to +bind Bessie to me now, but I see no sign that Bessie wants her freedom," +he said, looking at her with laughing, wistful eyes--always with that +sense of masculine triumph which Bessie's humility had encouraged. + +"Oh, Harry, I want no freedom but the freedom to love and serve you!" +cried she with a rush of tears and a hand held out to him. And then with +an irresistible, passionate sorrow she fell on her knees beside him and +hid her face on his shoulder. He put his arm round her and held her fast +for several minutes, himself too moved to speak. He guessed what this +sudden outburst of feeling meant: it meant that Bessie saw him so +altered, saw through his quiet humor into the deep anxiety of his heart. + +"I'll conceal nothing from you, Bessie: I don't think I have felt the +worst of my defeat yet," were his words when he spoke at last. She +listened, still on her knees: "It is a common thing to say that suspense +is worse to bear than certainty, but the certainty that destroys hope +and makes the future a blank is very like a millstone hanged round a +man's neck to sink him in a slough of despondency. I never really +believed it until Dr. Courteney told me that if I wish to save my life +it must be at the cost of my ambition; that I can never be an advocate, +a teacher, a preacher; that I shall have to go softly all my days, and +take care that the winds don't blow on me too roughly; that I must be an +exile from English fogs and cold, let me prefer home ever so dearly; +that I must read only a little, and write only a little, and avoid all +violent emotions, and be in fact the creature I have most despised--a +poor valetudinarian, always feeling my own pulse and considering my own +feelings." + +"You will have to change much more before you will come to that; and I +never knew you despise anybody, Harry," Bessie said with gentle +deprecation. "You had a tender heart from a boy, and others feel kindly +towards you." + +"And come what may, my dear little Bessie will keep her faith to me?" +said Harry looking down into her sweet eyes. + +"Yes, Harry." + +After a pause he spoke again: "You have done me good, dear; I shall rest +better for having talked to you to-night. It is in the night-time that +thought is terrible. For months past, ever since I was ill in the +spring, the foreshadow of failure has loomed dark and close upon me like +a suffocating weight--what I must do; how I must live without being a +tax on my father, if I am to live; what he and my mother would feel; +what old friends would say; who could or would help me to some harmless +occupation; and whether I should not, for everybody's sake, be better +out of the world." + +"Oh, Harry, but that was faint-hearted!" said Bessie with a touch of +reproach. "You forgot me, then?" + +"I have had several strokes of bad luck lately, or perhaps I ought to +suspect that not being in good case my work was weak. Manuscript after +manuscript has been returned on my hands. Surely this was discouraging. +There on the table is a roll of which I had better hopes, and I found it +awaiting me here." + +"May I take it to Fairfield and read it?" Bessie asked. "It is as big as +a book." + +"Yes; if it were printed and bound it would be a book. Read it, and let +me know how it impresses you." + +Bessie looked mightily glad. "If you will let me help you, Harry, you +will make me happy," said she. "What is it about?" + +"It is a story, for your comfort--a true story. I could not devise a +plot, so I fell back on a series of pathetic facts. Life is very sad, +Bessie. Why are we so fond of it?" + +"We take it in detail, as we take the hours of the day and the days of +the year, and it is very endurable. It has seemed to me sometimes that +those whom we call fortunate are the least happy, and that the hard lot +is often lifted into the sphere of blessedness. Consider Mr. and Mrs. +Moxon; they appear to have nothing to be thankful for, and yet in their +devotion to one another what perfect peace and consolation!" + +"Oh, Bessie, but it is a dreadful fate!" said Harry. "Poor Moxon! who +began life with as fine hopes and as solid grounds for them as any +man,--there he is vegetating at Littlemire still, his mind chiefly taken +up with thinking whether his sick wife will be a little more or a little +less suffering to-day than she was yesterday." + +"I saw them last week, and could have envied them. She is as near an +angel as a woman can be; and he was very contented in the garden, giving +lessons to a village boy in whom he has discovered a genius for +mathematics. He talked of nothing else." + +"Poor boy! poor genius! And are we to grow after the Moxons' pattern, +Bessie--meek, patient, heavenly?" said Harry. + +"By the time our hair is white, Harry, I have no objection, but there is +a long meanwhile," replied Bessie with brave uplooking face. "We have +love between us and about us, and that is the first thing. The best +pleasures are the cheapest--we burden life with too many needless cares. +You may do as much good in an obscure groove of the world as you might +do if your name was in all men's mouths. I don't believe that I admire +very successful people." + +"That is lucky for us both, since I am a poor fellow whose health has +given way--who is never likely to have any success at all." + +"You don't know, Harry; but this is not the time to remember pride and +ambition--it is the time to recover all the health and strength you can; +and with them hope and power will return. What do you most enjoy in the +absence of work?" + +"Fresh air, fine scenery, and the converse of men. To live plainly is no +hardship to me; it would be a great hardship to fall on lower +associations, which is the common destiny of the poor and decayed +scholar. You will save me, Bessie?" + +"Indeed I will!" And on this they clasped hands fervently. + +"Bessie, can we go to Italy together this winter? I dare not go alone: I +must have you to take care of me," pleaded Harry. + +"I will take care of you, Harry." Bessie was smiling, tearful, blushing, +and Harry said she was a dear, good girl, and he thanked her. + +After that there was some exposition of ways and means, and Bessie, +growing rosier and rosier, told Harry the story of that famous nest-egg, +concerning which she had been put to the blush before. He was very glad +to hear of it--very glad indeed, and much relieved, for it would make +that easy which he had been dwelling on as most of all desirable, but +hampered with difficulties that he could not himself remove. To see him +cheer up at this practical point was delightful to Bessie; it was like +his generous warm heart, equally open to give and to receive. She felt +almost too happy, and blessed the simple forethought of the doctor which +would justify them in remitting all care and anxiety to a future at +least two years off, and afford Harry leisure and opportunity to regain +his health and courage, and look about him for another vocation than +that he had chosen originally. + +"And you will find it, Harry, and perhaps you will love it better than +London and dusty law. I am sure I shall," prophesied Bessie gayly. + +Harry laughed at her obstinate prejudice; she pointed out that the +result had proved it a shrewd prejudice; and then they fell upon Italy +and talked travel-talk with the sanguine anticipations of young people +endowed with limitless curiosity and a genuine taste for simple +pleasures and each other's society. Harry's classical learning would be +everywhere available for the enhancement of these pleasures. + +At this stage of their previsions Mrs. Musgrave intervened, and Bessie +became conscious that the shades of evening were stealing over the +landscape. Mrs. Musgrave had on her bonnet, and was prepared to walk +with Bessie on the road to Fairfield until they should meet Mr. Musgrave +returning from Hampton, who would accompany her the rest of the way. +Harry wished to go in his mother's stead, but she was peremptory in +bidding him stay where he was, and Bessie supported her. "No, Harry, not +to-night--another time," she said, and he yielded at once. + +"I'm sure his mother thanks you," said Mrs. Musgrave as they went out. +"He was so jaded this morning when he arrived that the tears came into +his eyes at a word, and Mr. Carnegie said that showed how thoroughly +done he is." + +Tears in Harry's eyes! Bessie thought of him with a most pitiful +tenderness. "Oh," she said, "we must all be good to him: he does not +look so ill to me as he looks tired. We must keep up his spirits and his +hope for himself. I see no cause for despair." + +"You are young, Bessie Fairfax, and it is easy for you to hope that +everything will turn out for the best, but it is a sore trial for his +father and me to have our expectation taken away. If Harry would have +been advised when he left college, he would never have gone to London. +But it is no use talking of that now. I wish we could see what he is to +do for a living; he will fret his heart out doing nothing at Brook." + +"Oh, Mrs. Musgrave, with a quire of paper and one of your gray +goosequills Harry will be preserved from the mischief of doing nothing. +You must let me come over and cheer him sometimes." + +"If things had turned out different with my poor son, all might have +been different. You have a good, affectionate disposition, Bessie, and +there is nobody Harry prizes as he prizes you; but a young man whose +health is indifferent and who has no prospects--what is that for a young +lady?" Mrs. Musgrave began to cry. + +"Don't cry, dear Mrs. Musgrave; if you cry, that will hurt Harry worse +than anything," said Bessie energetically. "He feels his disappointment +more for his father and you than for himself. His health is not so bad +but that it will mend; and as for his prospects, it is not wise to +impress upon him that the cloud he is under now may never disperse. 'A +cheerful heart doeth good like a medicine.' Have a cheerful heart again. +It will come with trying." + +They had not yet met Mr. Musgrave, though they were nearly a mile on the +road, but Bessie would not permit the poor mother to walk any farther +with her. They parted with a kiss. "And God for ever bless you, Bessie +Fairfax, if you have it in your heart to be to Harry what nobody else +can be," said his mother, laying her tremulous hands on the girl's +shoulders. Bessie kissed her again and went on her way rejoicing. This +was one of the happiest hours her life had ever known. She was not +tempted to dwell wantonly on the dark side of events present, and there +were so many brighter possibilities in the future that she could +entirely act out the divine precept to let the morrow take thought for +the things of itself. + +When Bessie Fairfax reached Fairfield, Roberts informed her in a +depressed manner that her ladyship was waiting dinner. Bessie started at +this view of her impolite absence, and hastened to the drawing-room to +apologize. But Lady Latimer coldly waived her explanations, and Bessie +felt very self-reproachful until an idea occurred to her what she would +do. After a brief retreat and rapid toilet she reappeared with Harry's +manuscript in her hand, and with simple craft displaying the roll, she +said, "This is for us to read--a true story. It is not in print yet, but +Mr. Harry Musgrave writes a plain hand. We are to give him our opinion +of it. I believe that, after all, he will be a poor author--one of my +heroes, Lady Latimer." + +"One of your heroes, Elizabeth? There is nothing very heroic in Mr. +Logger," rejoined my lady softening, and holding out her hand for the +manuscript. "Is the young man very ill?" + +"No, no--not so ill that we need fear his dying inglorious without +giving the world something to remember him by, but discouraged by the +dicta of friends and physicians, who consign him to idleness and +obscurity for a year or two." + +"Which idleness and obscurity I presume it is your wish to alleviate?" +said Lady Latimer with half-contemptuous resignation. "Come to dinner +now: we will read your hero's story afterward." + +Lady Latimer's personal interests were so few that it was a necessity +for her generous soul to adopt the interests of other people. She kept +Bessie reading until eleven o'clock, when she was dismissed to bed and +ordered to leave the manuscript below, lest she should sit up and read +it when she ought to be asleep. But what Bessie might not do my lady was +quite at liberty to do herself, and she made an end of the tale before +she retired. And not only that. She wrote to Mr. Logger to recommend a +publisher, and to ask how proper payment could be assured to a young and +unknown author. She described the story to the veteran critic as a sad, +pretty story of true love (which people go on believing in), sensibly +written, without serious flaws of taste or grammar, and really worth +reading if one had nothing else to do. In the morning she informed +Bessie of what she had done. Bessie was not quite sure that Harry would +feel gratified at being placed under the protection of her ladyship and +Mr. Logger; but as she could not well revoke the letter that was +written, she said nothing against it, and Lady Latimer was busy and +happy for a week in the expectation that she was doing something for +"the unfortunate young man." But at the week's end Mr. Logger dashed her +confidence with the answer that he had not been able to meet with any +publisher willing to pay money down for a sad, pretty story of true love +by an unknown author: sad, pretty stories of true love were a drug in +the literary market. She was grievously disappointed. Bessie was the +same, and as she had confessed a hope to Harry, she had to carry to him +the tidings of failure. If he was sorry, it was for her regret, but they +soon began to talk of other things. They had agreed that if good luck +came they would be glad, and if bad luck they would pass it lightly +over. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +_GOODNESS PREVAILS_. + + +Desirous as Lady Latimer was to do Mr. Harry Musgrave a service, her +good-will towards him ended there. She perversely affected to believe +that Miss Fairfax's avowed promise to him constituted no engagement, and +on this plea put impediments in the way of her visits to Brook, lest a +handle should be given to gossip. Bessie herself was not concerned to +hinder gossip. With the exception of Lady Latimer, all her old friends +in the Forest were ready to give her their blessing. The Wileys were +more and more astonished that she should be so short-sighted, but Mr. +Phipps shook her by both hands and expressed his cordial approbation, +and Miss Buff advised her to have her own way, and let those who were +vexed please themselves again. + +Bessie suffered hours of argument from my lady, who, when she found she +could prevail nothing, took refuge in a sort of scornful, compassionate +silence. These silences were, however, of brief duration. She appealed +to Mr. Carnegie, who gave her for answer that Bessie was old enough to +know her own mind, and if that leant towards Mr. Harry Musgrave, so much +the better for him; if she were a weak, impulsive girl, he would advise +delay and probation, but she was of full age and had a good sensible +head of her own; she knew Mr. Harry Musgrave's circumstances, tastes, +prejudices, and habits--what she would gain in marrying him, and what +she would resign. What more was there to say? Mr. Laurence Fairfax had +neither the power nor the will to interpose authoritatively; he made +inquiries into Mr. Harry Musgrave's university career, and talked of him +to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, who replied with magnanimity that but for the +break-down of his health he was undoubtedly one of those young men from +whose early achievement and mental force the highest successes might +have been expected in after-life. Thereupon Mr. Laurence Fairfax and his +gentle wife pitied him, and could not condemn Elizabeth. + +Mrs. Carnegie considered that Bessie manifested signal prudence, +forethought, and trust in God when she proposed that her nest-egg, which +was now near a thousand pounds, should supply the means of living in +Italy for a couple of years, without reference to what might come after. +But when Elizabeth wrote to her uncle Laurence to announce what manner +of life she was preparing to enter upon, and what provision was made for +it, though he admired her courage he wrote back that it should not be so +severely tested. It was his intention to give her the portion that would +have been her father's--not so much as the old squire had destined for +her had she married as he wished (that, she knew, had gone another way), +but a competence sufficient to live on, whether at home or abroad. He +told her that one-half of her fortune ought to be settled on Mr. Harry +Musgrave, to revert to her if he died first, and he concluded by +offering himself as one of her trustees. + +This generous letter made Bessie very glad, and having shown it to Lady +Latimer at breakfast, she went off with it to Brook directly after. She +found Harry in the sitting-room, turning out the contents of his old +desk. In his hand at the moment of her entrance was the white rose that +he had taken from her at Bayeux; it kept its fragrance still. She gave +him her uncle's letter to read, and when he had read it he said, "If I +did not love you so much, Bessie, this would be a burden painful to +bear." + +"Then don't let us speak of it--let me bear it. I am pleased that my +uncle Laurence should be so good to us. When you meet I know you will be +friends. He is in elysium when he can get a good scholar to talk to, and +he will want you to send him all sorts of archæological intelligence +from Rome." + +"I have a piece of news too--hopeful news from Christie," said Harry, +producing one of the artist's rapid scratches. "It is to tell me that he +is on the committee of a new illustrated magazine of art which is to +start at Christmas, and that he is sure I can help them with the +letter-press department while we are in Italy." + +"Of course you can. And they will require a story: that sweet story of +yours has some picture bits that would be exquisite if they fell into +the hands of a sympathetic artist. Let us send it to Christie, Harry +dear." + +"Very well: nothing venture, nothing have. The manuscript is with you. +Take Christie's letter for his address; you will see that he wants an +answer without loss of time. He is going to be married very shortly, and +will be out of town till November." + +"I will despatch the story by to-day's post, and a few lines of what I +think of it: independent criticism is useful sometimes." + +Harry looked at her, laughing and saying with a humorous deprecation, +"Bessie's independent criticism!" + +Bessie blushed and laughed too, but steadfastly affirmed, "Indeed, +Harry, if I did not think it the prettiest story I ever read I would not +tell you so. Lady Latimer said it was pretty, and you cannot accuse her +of loving you too much." + +"No. And that brings me to another matter. I wish you would come away +from Fairfield: come here, Bessie. In this rambling old house there is +room enough and to spare, and you shall have all the liberty you please. +I don't see you as often or for as long as I want, and the order of +things is quite reversed: I would much rather set out to walk to you +than wait and watch for your appearance." + +"Had I not better go home? My little old nest under the thatch is empty, +and the boys are away." + +"Come here first for a week; we have never stayed in one house together +since we were children. I want to see my dear little Bessie every hour +of the day. At Fairfield you are caged. When her ladyship puts on her +grand manner and towers she is very daunting to a poor lover." + +"She has not seen you since you left London, Harry. I should like you to +meet; then I think she might forgive us," said Bessie, with a wistful +regret. Sometimes she was highly indignant with my lady, but in the +depths of her heart there was always a fund of affection, admiration, +and respect for the idol of her childish days. + +The morning but one after this Bessie's anxious desire that my lady and +her dear Harry should meet was unexpectedly gratified. It was about +halfway towards noon when she was considering whether or no she could +with peace and propriety bring forward her wish to go again to Brook, +when Lady Latimer hurried down from her sanctum, which overlooked the +drive, saying, "Elizabeth, here is young Mr. Musgrave on horseback; run +and bid him come in and rest. He is giving some message to Roberts and +going away." + +"Oh, please ask him yourself," said Bessie, but at the same moment she +hastened out to the door. + +It was a sultry, oppressive morning, and Harry looked languid and +ill--more ill than Bessie had ever seen him look. She felt inexpressibly +shocked and pained, and he smiled as if to relieve her, while he held +out a letter that he had been on the point of entrusting to Roberts: +"From that excellent fellow, Christie. Your independent criticism has +opened his eyes to the beauties of my story, and he declares that he +shall claim the landscape bits himself." + +Lady Latimer advanced with a pale, grave face, and invited the young man +to dismount. There was something of entreaty in her voice: "The +morning-room is the coolest, Elizabeth--take Mr. Musgrave there. I shall +be occupied until luncheon, but I hope you will be able to persuade him +to stay." + +Bessie's lips repeated, "Stay," and Harry not unthankfully entered the +house. He dropt into a great easy-chair and put up one hand to cover his +eyes, and so continued for several minutes. Lady Latimer stood an +instant looking at him with a pitiful, scared gaze, and then, avoiding +Bessie's face, she turned and left the lovers together. Bessie laid her +hand on Harry's shoulder and spoke kindly to him: he was tired, the +atmosphere was very close and took away his strength. After a while he +recovered himself and said something about Christie's friendliness, and +perhaps if _he_ illustrated the story they should see reminiscences of +the manor-garden and of Great-Ash Ford, and other favorite spots in the +Forest. They did not talk much or eagerly at all, but Christie's +commendation of the sad pretty story of true love was a distinct +pleasure to them both, and especially to Harry. His mother had begged +him to stop at home and let the letter be sent over to Fairfield, but he +wanted the gratification of telling Bessie his news himself; and the +ride in the hot, airless weather had been too fatiguing. Bessie took up +a piece of work and sat by the window, silent, soothing. He turned his +chair to face her, and from his position he had a distant view of the +sea--a dark blue line on the horizon. He had been fond of the sea and of +boats from his first school-days at Hampton, and as he contemplated its +great remote calm a longing to be out upon it took possession of him, +which he immediately confessed to Bessie. Bessie did not think he need +long in vain for that--it was easy of accomplishment. He said yes--Ryde +was not far, and a Ryde wherry was a capital craft for sailing. + +Just as he was speaking Lady Latimer came back bringing some delicious +fruit for Harry's refreshment. "What is that you are saying about Ryde?" +she inquired quickly. "I am going to Ryde for a week or two, and as I +shall take Elizabeth with me, you can come to us there, Mr. Musgrave, +and enjoy the salt breezes. It is very relaxing in the Forest at this +season." + +Bessie by a glance supplicated Harry to be gracious, and in obedience to +her mute entreaty he thanked her ladyship and said it would give him the +truest pleasure. My lady had never thought of going to Ryde until that +moment, but since she had seen Harry Musgrave and had been struck by the +tragedy of his countenance, and all that was meant by his having to fall +out of the race of life so early, she was impelled by an irresistible +goodness of nature to be kind and generous to him. Robust people, +healthy, wealthy, and wise, she could let alone, but poverty, sickness, +or any manner of trouble appealed straight to her noble heart, and +brought out all her spirit of Christian fellowship. She was prompt and +thorough in doing a good action, and when she met the young people at +luncheon her arrangements for going to the island were all made, and she +announced that the next day, in the cool of the evening, they would +drive to Hampton and cross by the last boat to Ryde. This sudden and +complete revolution in her behavior was not owing to any change in +principle, but to sheer pitifulness of temper. She had not realized +before what an immense disaster and overthrow young Musgrave was +suffering, but at the sight of his pathetic visage and weakened frame, +and of Elizabeth's exquisite tenderness, she knew that such great love +must be given to him for consolation and a shield against despair. It +was quite within the scope of her imagination to depict the temptations +of a powerful and aspiring mind reduced to bondage and inaction by the +development of inherited disease: to herself it would have been of all +fates the most terrible, and thus she fancied it for him. But in Harry +Musgrave's nature there was no bitterness or fierce revolt, no angry +sarcasm against an unjust world or stinging remorse for fault of his +own. Defeat was his destiny, and he bowed to it as the old Greek heroes +bowed to the decree of the gods, and laughed sometimes at the impotence +of misfortune to fetter the free flight of his thoughts. And Elizabeth +was his angel of peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +_CERTAIN OPINIONS_. + + +The house that Lady Latimer always occupied on her visits to Ryde was +away from the town and the pier, amongst the green fields going out +towards Binstead. It had a shaded garden down to the sea, and a +landing-place of its own when the tide was in. A balcony, looking north, +made the narrow drawing-room spacious, and my lady and her despatch-box +were established in a cool room below, adjoining the dining-parlor. She +did not like the pier or the strand, with their shoals of company in the +season, and took her drives out on the white roads to Wootton and +Newport, Osborne and Cowes, commonly accompanied by some poor friend to +whom a drive was an unfrequent pleasure. She never trusted herself to a +small boat, and as for the wherry that bore Harry Musgrave and Elizabeth +every morning flying before the wind for three delicious hours, she +appreciated its boasted safety so slightly that she was always relieved +to see them safe back again, whether they landed at the foot of the +garden or came through the town. It was beautiful weather, with fine +fresh breezes all the week, and Harry looked and felt so much like a new +man at the end of it that my lady insisted on his remaining a second +week, when they would all return to the Forest together. He had given +her the highest satisfaction by so visibly taking the benefit of her +hospitality, and had made great way in her private esteem besides. +Amongst her many friends and acquaintances then at Ryde, for every day's +dinner she chose one gentleman for the sake of good talk that Mr. Harry +Musgrave might not tire, and the breadth and diversity of the young +man's knowledge and interests surprised her. + +One evening after some especially amusing conversation with a travelled +doctor, who was great in the scientific study of botany and beetles, she +said to Elizabeth when they were alone, "What a pity! what a grievous +pity! There is no position brains and energy can win that Mr. Harry +Musgrave might not raise himself to if his health were equal to his +mental capacity. And with what dignity and fortitude he bears his +condemnation to a desultory, obscure existence! I had no idea there +could be so much sweet patience in a man. Do you anticipate that it will +be always so?" + +"Harry is very happy now, and I do not look forward much or far," +Elizabeth said quietly. "People say men are so different from women, but +after all they must be more like women than like anything else. So I try +sometimes to put myself in Harry's place, and I know there will be +fluctuations--perhaps, even a sense of waste and blankness now and then, +and a waking up of regret. But he has no envious littleness of mind and +no irritability of temper: when he is feeling ill he will feel low. But +our life need not be dull or restricted, and he has naturally a most +enjoying humor." + +"And he will have you--I think, after all, Elizabeth, you have found +your vocation--to love and to serve; a blessed vocation for those called +to it, but full of sorrows to those who take it up when the world and +pride have disappointed them." + +Elizabeth knew that my lady was reflecting on herself. They were both +silent for a few minutes, and then Elizabeth went on: "Harry and I have +been thinking that a yacht would be an excellent establishment for us to +begin with--a yacht that would be fit to coast along France, and could +be laid up at Bordeaux while we rest for the winter at Arcachon--or, if +we are of a mind to go farther, that would carry us to the +Mediterranean. Harry loves a city, and Bologna attracts his present +curiosity: I tell him because it was once a famous school of law." + +"Bologna is a most interesting city. He would be well amused there," +said my lady. "It has a learned society, and is full of antiquities and +pictures. It is in the midst of a magnificent country too. I spent a +month there once with Lord Latimer, and we found the drives in the +vicinity unparalleled. You cannot do better than go to Bologna. Take +your yacht round to one of the Adriatic ports--to Venice. I can supply +you with guide-books. I perceive that Mr. Harry Musgrave must be well +entertained. A Ryde wherry with you in the morning is the perfection of +entertainment, but he has an evident relish for sound masculine +discourse in the evening: we must not be too exacting." + +Bessie colored slightly and laughed. "I don't think that I am very +exacting," she said. "I am sure whatever Harry likes he shall do, for +me. I know he wants the converse of men; he classes it with fine scenery +and fresh air as one of the three delights that he most inclines to, +since hard work is forbidden him. Bologna will be better than Arcachon +for the winter." + +"Yes, if the climate be suitable. We must find out what the climate is, +or you may alter your plans again. I have not heard yet when the great +event is to take place--when you are to be married." + +"My father thinks that Harry should avoid the late autumn in the +Forest--the fall of the leaf," Bessie began with rosy diffidence. + +"But you have made no preparations? And there are the settlements!" +exclaimed Lady Latimer, anxiously. + +"Our preparations are going on. My uncle Laurence and Mr. Carnegie will +be our trustees; they have consulted Harry, I know, and the settlements +are in progress. Oh, there will be no difficulty." + +"But the wedding will be at Abbotsmead, since Mr. Laurence Fairfax gives +his countenance?" Lady Latimer suggested interrogatively. + +Bessie's blush deepened: "No. I have promised Harry that it shall be at +Beechhurst, and very quiet. Therefore when we return to the Forest I +shall have to ask you to leave me at the doctor's house." + +Lady Latimer was silent and astonished. Then she said with emphasis: +"Elizabeth, I cannot approve of that plan. If you will not go to +Abbotsmead, why not be married from Fairfield? I shall be glad to render +you every assistance." + +"You are very, very kind, but Harry would not like it," pleaded Bessie. + +"You are too indulgent, Elizabeth. Harry would not like it, indeed! Why +should he have everything his own way?" + +"Oh, Lady Latimer, I am sure you would not have the heart to cross him +yourself!" cried Bessie. + +My lady looked up at her sharply, but Elizabeth's face was quite +serious: "He has rallied wonderfully during the week--rallied both his +strength and his spirits. It is fortunate he has that buoyancy. Every +girl loves a gay wedding." + +"It would be peculiarly distasteful to Harry under the circumstances, +and I would not give him pain for the world," Bessie said warmly. + +"He is as well able to bear a little contradiction as the rest of us," +said Lady Latimer, looking lofty. "In my day the lady was consulted. Now +everything must be arranged to accommodate the gentleman. I'm sure we +are grown very humble!" + +Bessie looked meekly on the carpet and did not belie my lady's words. +Something in her air was provoking--perhaps that very meekness, in +certain lights so foreign to her character--for Lady Latimer colored, +and continued in her frostiest tone: "If you are ashamed of the +connection you are forming, that justifies your not inviting the world +to look on at your wedding, which ought to be an hour of pride and +triumph to a girl." + +Bessie's meekness vanished in a blush: "And it will be an hour of +triumph to me. Ashamed! Harry Musgrave is to me the best and dearest +heart that breathes," she exclaimed; and my lady was too well advised to +prolong the argument, especially as she felt that it would be useless. + +Harry Musgrave was not grudging of his gratitude for real kindness, and +though, when he was in his stronger mood, Lady Latimer was perhaps still +disposed to huff him, the next hour she was as good as she knew how to +be. The visit to the island was productive of excellent results in the +way of a better understanding, and my lady made no more opposition to +Elizabeth's leaving her and taking up her abode in Mr. Carnegie's house +until her marriage. + +For a day or two the triangular nest under the thatch felt small and +confined to Bessie, but one morning the rustic sweetness of honeysuckle +blowing in at the open lattice awoke in her memory a thousand happy +childish recollections and brought back all the dear home-feelings. Then +Harry Musgrave was more like his original self here than elsewhere. +Insensibly he fell into his easy boyish pleasantry of manner, and +announced himself as more secure of his fate when he found Bessie +sitting in company with a work-basket in the pretty, low, old-fashioned +drawing-room, perfumed with roses overflowing the china bowl. Bessie had +a perfect notion of the fitness of things, and as simplicity of dress +seemed best suited to her beauty in that place, she attired herself in +her plainest and most becoming gown, and Harry looked her over +approvingly and called her his dear little Bessie again. The doctor, her +mother, the children, every early friend out of the house, was glad, and +congratulated her upon her return to the Forest and to them. And now and +then, in the dreamy length of the days when she sat thinking, all the +interval of time and all the change of scene, circumstance, and faces +since she first went away appeared to her like a dream of the night +when it is gone. + +Of course she had to listen to the moralities of this last vicissitude +from her various friends. + +Said Miss Buff confidentially, "There is a vast deal more in +surroundings, Bessie, than people like to admit. We are all under their +influence. If we had seen you at Abbotsmead, we might have pitied your +sacrifice, but when we see you at the doctor's in your sprigged cambric +dresses, and your beautiful wavy hair in the style we remember, it seems +the most right and natural thing in the world that you should marry Mr. +Harry Musgrave--no condescension in it. But I did not _quite_ feel that +while you were at Fairfield, though I commended your resolution to have +your own way. Now that you are here you are just Bessie Fairfax--only +the doctor's little daughter. And that goes in proof of what I always +maintain--that grand people, where they are not known, ought never to +divest themselves of the outward and visible signs of their grandness; +for Nature has not been bountiful to them all with either wit or sense, +manners or beauty, though there are toadies everywhere able to discern +in them the virtues and graces suitable to their rank." + +"Lady Latimer looks her part upon the stage," said Bessie. + +"But how many don't! The countess of Harbro', for instance; who that did +not know her would take her for anything but a common person? Insolent +woman she is! She found fault with the choir to me last Sunday, as if I +were a singing-mistress and she paid my salary. Has old Phipps confessed +how you have astonished him and falsified his predictions?" + +"I am not aware that I have done anything to astonish anybody. I fancied +that I had pleased Mr. Phipps rather than otherwise," said Bessie with a +quiet smile. + +"And so you have. He is gratified that a young lady of quality should +have the pluck to make a marriage of affection in a rank so far below +her own, considering nothing but the personal worth of the man she +marries." + +"I have never been able to discover the hard and fast conventional lines +that are supposed to separate ranks. There is an affectation in these +matters which practically deludes nobody. A liberal education and the +refinements of wealth are too extensively diffused for those whose pride +it is that they have done nothing but vegetate on one spot of land for +generations to hold themselves aloof as a superior caste. The +pretensions of some of them are evident, but only evident to be +ridiculous--like the pretensions of those who, newly enriched by trade, +decline all but what they describe as carriage-company." + +"The poor gentry are eager enough to marry money, but that does not +prevent them sneering at the way the money is made," Miss Buff said. +"Even Lady Latimer herself, speaking of the family who have taken +Admiral Parkins's house for three months, said it was a pity they should +come to a place like Beechhurst, for the gentlefolk would not call upon +them, and they would feel themselves above associating with the +tradespeople. They are the great tea-dealers in Cheapside." + +"Oh, if they are not vulgar and ostentatious, Lady Latimer will soon +forget her prejudice against the tea." + +"And invite them to her garden-parties like the rest of us? No doubt she +will; she likes to know everybody. Then some connection with other +people of her acquaintance will come out, or she will learn that they +are influential with the charitable institutions by reason of their +handsome donations, or that they have an uncle high in the Church, or a +daughter married into the brewing interest. Oh, the ramifications of +society are infinite, and it is safest not to lay too much stress on the +tea to begin with." + +"Much the safest," Mr. Phipps, who had just come in, agreed. "The +tea-dealer is very rich, and money (we have Solomon's word for it) is a +defence. He is not aware of needing her ladyship's patronage. I expect, +Miss Fairfax, that, drifting up and down and to and fro in your +vicissitudes, you have found all classes much more alike than +different?" + +"Yes. The refinements and vulgarities are the monopoly of no degree; +only I think the conceit of moral superiority is common to us all," said +Bessie, and she laughed. + +"And well it may be, since the axiom that _noblesse oblige_ has fallen +into desuetude, and the word of a gentleman is no more to swear by than +a huckster's. Tom and Jerry's wives go to court, and the arbitrary +edict of fashion constitutes the latest barbaric importation _bon ton_ +for a season. I have been giving Harry Musgrave the benefit of my +wanderings in Italy thirty years ago, and he is so enchanted that you +will have to turn gypsy again next spring, Miss Fairfax." + +"It will suit me exactly--a mule or an ox-cart instead of the train, +byways for highways, and sauntering for speed. Did I not tell you long +ago, Mr. Phipps, that the gypsy wildness was in the Fairfax blood, and +that some day it would be my fate to travel ever so far and wide, and to +come home again browner than any berry?" + +"Why, you see, Miss Fairfax, the wisest seer is occasionally blind, and +you are that rare bird, a consistent woman. Knowing the great lady you +most admired, I feared for you some fatal act of imitation. But, thank +God! you have had grace given you to appreciate a simple-minded, lovable +fellow, who will take you out of conventional bonds, and help you to +bend your life round in a perfect circle. You are the happiest woman it +has been my lot to meet with." + +Bessie did not speak, but she looked up gratefully in the face of her +old friend. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +_BESSIE'S LAST RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR._ + + +Mr. Carnegie complained that he had less of his dear Bessie's company +than anybody else by reason of his own busy occupation, and one clear +September morning, when the air was wonderfully fresh and sweet after a +thunderstorm during the night, he asked her to come out for a last ride +with him before Harry Musgrave carried her away. Bessie donned her habit +and hat, and went gladly: the ride would serve as a leavetaking of some +of her friends in the cottages whom otherwise she might miss. + +In the village they met Miss Buff, going off to the school to hear the +Bible read and teach the Catechism--works of supererogation under the +new system, which Mr. Wiley had thankfully remitted to her on account +of her popularity with parents and children. + +"Your duty to your neighbor and your duty to God and the ten +commandments--nothing else, because of the Dissenters," she explained in +a bustle. "Imagine the vulgarity of an education for the poor from which +the Bible may be omitted! Dreadful! I persuade the children to get +certain of the psalms, proverbs, and parables by heart out of school. +Bless you! they like that; but as for teaching them such abstract +knowledge as what an adverb or an isthmus is, or the height of Mont +Blanc, I defy you! And it is all fudge. Will they sweep a room or make +an apple-dumpling the better for it? Not they. But fix it in their minds +that whatever their hands find to do they must do it with their might, +and there is a chance that they will sweep into the corners and pare the +apples thin. But I have no time to spare, so good-bye, good-bye!" + +The general opinion of Beechhurst was with Miss Buff, who was making a +stand upon the ancient ways in opposition to the superior master of Lady +Latimer's selection, whose chief tendency was towards grammar, physical +geography, and advanced arithmetic, which told well in the inspector's +report. Miss Buff was strong also in the matter of needle, work and +knitting--she would even have had the boys knit--but here she had +sustained defeat. + +Mr. Carnegie's first visit was to Mrs. Christie, who, since she had +recovered her normal state of health, had resumed her habit of drugging +and complaining. Her son was now at home, and when the doctor and Bessie +rode across the green to the wheelwright's house there was the artist at +work, with a companion under his white umbrella. His companion wore a +maize piqué dress and a crimson sash; a large leghorn hat, garnished +with poppies and wheat-ears, hid her face. + +"There is Miss Fairfax herself, Janey," whispered young Christie in an +encouraging tone. "Don't be afraid." + +Janey half raised her head and gazed at Bessie with shy, distrustful +eyes. Bessie, quite unconscious, reined in Miss Hoyden under the shadow +of a spreading tree to wait while the doctor paid his visit in-doors. +She perceived that there was a whispering between the two under the +white umbrella, and with a pleasant recognition of the young man she +looked another way. After the lapse of a few minutes he approached her, +an unusual modest suffusion overspreading his pale face, and said, "Miss +Fairfax, there is somebody here you once knew. She is very timid, and +says she dares not claim your remembrance, because you must have thought +she had forgotten you." + +Bessie turned her head towards the diffident small personage who was +regarding her from the distance. "Is it Janey Fricker?" she asked with a +pleased, amused light in her face. + +"It is Janey Christie." In fact, the artist was now making his +wedding-tour, and Janey was his wife. + +"Oh," said Bessie, "then this was why your portfolio was so full of +sketches at Yarmouth. I wish I had known before." + +Janey's face was one universal blush as she came forward and looked up +in Miss Fairfax's handsome, beneficent face. There had always been an +indulgent protectiveness in Bessie's manner to the master-mariner's +little daughter, and it came back quite naturally. Janey expected hasty +questions, perhaps reproaches, perhaps coldness, but none of these were +in Bessie's way. She had never felt herself ill used by Janey, and in +the joy of the sudden rencounter did not recollect that she had anything +to forgive. She said how she had lived in the hope of a meeting again +with Janey some day, and what a delightful thing it was to meet thus--to +find that her dear little comrade at school was married to Harry +Musgrave's best friend! Janey had heard from her husband all the story +of Bessie's faithful love, but she was too timid and self-doubting to be +very cordial or responsive. Bessie therefore talked for both--promised +herself a renewal of their early friendship, and expressed an hospitable +wish that Mr. Christie would bring his wife to visit them in Italy next +year when he took his holiday. Christie promised that he would, and +thought Miss Fairfax more than ever good and charming; but Janey was +almost happier when Bessie rode away with Mr. Carnegie and she was +permitted to retire into seclusion again under the white umbrella. The +artist had chosen him a helpmeet who could be very devoted in private +life, but who would never care for his professional honors or public +reputation. Bessie heard afterward that the master-mariner was dead, +and the place in her heart that he had held was now her husband's. With +her own more expansive and affectionate nature she felt a genial warmth +of satisfaction in the meeting, and as she trotted along with the doctor +she told him about Janey at school, and thought herself most fortunate +to have been riding with him that morning. + +"For I really fear the little shy creature would never have come near me +had I not fallen in with her where she could not escape," said she. + +"Christie has been even less ambitious in his marriage than yourself, +Bessie," was the doctor's reply. "That one-idead little woman may +worship him, but she will be no help. She will not attract friends to +his house, even if she be not jealous of them; and he will have to go +out and leave her at home; and that is a pity, for an artist ought to +live in the world." + +"She is docile, but not trustful. Oh, he will tame her, and she will try +to please him," said Bessie cheerfully. "She fancied that I must have +forgotten her, when there was rarely a day that she did not come into my +mind. And she says the same of me, yet neither of us ever wrote or made +any effort to find the other out." + +"Let us hope that you have both contracted a more serviceable friendship +in another direction," said the doctor, and Bessie laughed. She was +aware that his estimate of feminine friendship was not exalted. + +About half a mile farther, where a byroad turned off towards Fairfield, +the riders came upon a remarkable group in high debate over a +donkey--Lady Latimer, Gampling the tinker, and the rural policeman. My +lady instantly summoned Mr. Carnegie to her succor in the fray, which, +to judge from her countenance and the stolid visage of the emissary of +the law, was obstinate. It appeared that the policeman claimed to arrest +the donkey and convey him to the pound. The dry and hungry beast had +been tethered by his master in the early morning where a hedge and +margin of sward bordered the domain of Admiral Parkins. Uninstructed in +modern law, he broke loose and strayed along the green, cropping here +and there a succulent shoot of thorn or thistle, until, when +approaching repletion, he was surprised by the policeman, reprimanded, +captured, and led ignominiously towards the gaol for vagrant animals--a +donkey that everybody knew. + +"He's took the innicent ass into custody, and me he's going to summons +and get fined," Gampling exclaimed, his indignation not abated by the +appearance of another friend upon the scene, for a friend he still +counted the doctor, though he persisted in his refusal to mend his +kettles and pots and pans. + +"Is not this an excess of zeal, Cobb?" remonstrated Mr. Carnegie. +"Suppose you let the ass off this time, and consider him warned not to +do it again?" + +"Sir, my instructions is not to pass over any infringement of the new +h'act. Straying is to be put down," said Cobb stiffly. + +"This here ass have earned his living honest a matter of eight year, and +naught ever laid agen his character afore by high nor low," pleaded +Gampling, growing pathetic as authority grew more stern. "Her ladyship +and the doctor will speak a good word for him, and there's others as +will." + +"Afore the bench it may be of vally and go to lowering the fine," said +the invincible exponent of the law; "I ain't nothing to do with that." + +"I'll tell you where it is, Cobb," urged Gampling, swelling into anger +again. "This here ass knows more o' nat'ral justice than the whole +boiling o' new h'acts. He'd never be the man to walk into her ladyship's +garden an' eat up her flowerbeds: raason why, he'd get a jolly good +hiding if he did. But he says to hisself, he says, when he sees a nice +bite o' clover or a sow-thistle by the roadside: "This here's what's +left for the poor, the fatherless, and the widder--it ain't much, but +thank God for small mercies!'--an' he falls to. Who's he robbed, I +should like to know?" + +"You must ask the admiral that when you come up before the magistrates +on Saturday," rejoined Cobb severely--his professional virtue sustained, +perhaps, by the presence of witnesses. + +Gampling besides being an itinerant tinker was also an itinerant +political preacher, and seeing that he could prevail nothing by secular +pleas, he betook himself to his spiritual armory, and in a voice of sour +derision that made Bessie Fairfax cringe asked the doctor if he had yet +received the Devil's Decalogue according to h'act of Parliament and +justices' notices that might be read on every wall?--and he proceeded to +recite it: "Thou shalt remove the old landmarks, and enter into the +fields of the poor. Thou shalt wholly reap the corners of thy fields and +gather the gleanings of thy harvest: thou shalt leave nothing for the +poor and the stranger. If a wayfarer that is a-hungered pluck the ears +of corn and eat, thou shalt hale him before the magistrates, and he +shall be cast into prison. Thou shalt turn away thy face from every poor +man, and if thy brother ask bread of thee, thou shalt give him neither +money nor food." + +Mr. Carnegie made a gesture to silence the tinker, for he had thrown +himself into an oratorical attitude, and shouted out the new +commandments at the top of his voice, emphasizing each clause with his +right fist brought down each time more passionately on the palm of his +left hand. But his humor had grown savage, and with his eyes glowing +like hot coals in his blackened visage he went on, his tone rising to a +hoarse, hysteric yell: "Thou shalt oppress the poor, and forbid to teach +the gospel in the schools, lest they learn to cry unto their God, and He +hear them, and they turn again and rend thee." + +"What use is there in saying the thing that is not, Gampling?" demanded +Lady Latimer impetuously. "The Bible _is_ read in our schools. And if +you workingmen take advantage of the privileges that you have won, you +ought to be strong enough, both in and out of Parliament, to prevent any +new act being made in violation of the spirit of either law or gospel." + +"I can't argy with your ladyship--it would be uncivil to say you talk +bosh," replied the tinker as suddenly despondent as he had been furious. +"I know that every year makes this world worse for poor honest folk to +live in, an' that there's more an' more h'acts to break one's shins +over. Who would ha' thowt as ever my old ass could arn me a fine an' +costs o' a summons by nibbling a mouthful o' green meat on the queen's +highway, God bless her! I've done." + +My lady endeavored to make Gampling hear that she would pay his fine +(if fined he were), but he refused to listen, and went off, shaking his +head and bemoaning the hard pass the world was come to. + +"It is almost incredible the power of interference that is given to the +police," said Lady Latimer. "That wretched young Burt and his mother +were taken up by Cobb last week and made to walk to Hampton for lying on +the heath asleep in the sun; nothing else--that was their crime. +Fortunately, the magistrates had the humanity to discharge them." + +"Poor souls! they are stamped for vagabonds. But young Burt will not +trouble police or magistrates much longer now," said the doctor. + +In fact, he had that very morning done with troubling anybody. When Mr. +Carnegie pulled up ten minutes later at the door of a forlorn hovel +which was the present shelter of the once decent widow, he had no need +to dismount. "Ride on, Bessie," he said softly, and Bessie rode on. +Widow Burt came out to speak to the doctor, her lean face scorched to +the color of a brick, her clothing ragged, her hair unkempt, her eyes +wild as the eyes of a hunted animal. + +"He's gone, sir," she said, pointing in-doors to where a long, +motionless figure seated in a chair was covered with a ragged patchwork +quilt. The doctor nodded gravely, paused, asked if she were alone. + +"Mrs. Wallop sat up with us last night--she's very good, is Mrs. +Wallop--but first thing this morning Bunny came along to fetch her to +his wife, and she'd hardly got out o' sight when poor Tom stretched +hisself like a bairn that's waked up and is going to drop off to sleep +again, an' with one great sigh was dead. Miss Wort comes most mornings: +here she is." + +Yes, there was Miss Wort, plunging head foremost through the heather by +way of making a short cut. She saw at a glance what had happened, and +taking both the poor mother's hands in her own, she addressed the doctor +with tears in her eyes and tremulous anger in her voice: "I shall always +say that it is a bad and cruel thing to send boys to prison, or anybody +whose temptation is hunger. How can we tell what we should do ourselves? +We are not wiser than the Bible, and we are taught to pray God lest we +be poor and steal. Tom would never have come to be what he was but for +that dreadful month at Whitchester. Instead of shutting up village-boys +and hurting their health if they have done anything wrong, why can't +they be ordered to wear a fool's cap for a week, going about their +ordinary work? Our eyes would be on them, and they would not have a +chance of picking and stealing again; it would give us a little more +trouble at first, but not in the long run, and save taxes for prisons. +People would say, 'There goes a poor thief,' and they would be sorry for +him, and wonder why he did it; and we ought to look after our own +things. And then, if they turned out incorrigible, they might be shut up +or sent out of the way of temptation. Oh, if those who have the power +were only a little more considerate, and would learn to put themselves +in their place!" + +Mr. Carnegie said that Miss Wort's queer suggestion was capable of +development, and there was too much sending of poor and young people to +prison for light offences--offences of ignorance often, for which a +reprimand and compensation would be enough. Bessie had never seen him +more saddened. + +Their next and last visit was to Littlemire. Mr. Moxon was in his +garden, working without his coat. He came forward, putting the +threadbare garment on, and begged Miss Fairfax to go up stairs and see +his wife. This was one of her good days, as she called the days when the +aching weariness of her perpetual confinement was a degree abated, and +she welcomed her visitor with a cry of plaintive joy, kissed her, gazed +at her fondly through glittering tears. + +Bessie did not know that she had been loved so much. Girl-like, she had +brought her tribute of flowers to the invalid's room, had wondered at +this half-paralyzed life that was surrounded by such an atmosphere of +peace; and when, during her last visit, she had realized what a +compensation for all sorrow was this peace, she had not yet understood +what an ardor of sympathy kept the poor sufferer's heart warm towards +those whose brighter lot had nothing in common with her own. + +"Oh, my love," she said in a sweet, thrilling voice, "dear Harry +Musgrave has been to tell me of his happiness. I am so glad for you +both--so very, very glad!" She did not pause to let Bessie respond, but +ran on with her recollections of Harry since he was a boy and came first +to read with her husband. "His thoughtfulness was really quite +beautiful; he never forgot to be kind. Oh, my dear, you may thoroughly +rely on his fine, affectionate temper. Rarely did he come to a lesson +without bringing me some message from his mother and little present in +his hand--a few flowers, a spring chicken, some nice fruit, a partridge. +This queer rustic scaffold for my books and work, Harry constructed it +himself, and I would not exchange it for the most elegant and ingenious +of whatnots. I could do nothing for him but listen to his long thoughts +and aspirations: that was when you were out of hearing, and he could +neither talk nor write to his dear little Bessie." + +"It was a great gap, but it did not make us strangers," said Bessie. + +"When he went to Oxford he sent us word of his arrival, and how he liked +his college and his tutor--matters that were as interesting to us as if +he had been our own. And when he found how welcome his letters were, he +wrote to Mr. Moxon often, and sent him any report or pamphlet that he +thought might please him; and several times he gave himself the trouble +both at the Bodleian and in London to search for and copy out extracts +from works that Mr. Moxon wanted and had no means of procuring here. You +can have no idea how helpful he has been to my husband in such things. +Poor fellow! what a grief it was to us that term he had to stay away +from Oxford on account of his health! Already we began to fear for the +future, but his buoyant spirit would not anticipate any permanent +hindrance to his progress; and that check did make him more prudent. But +it is not to be; he sees himself cut short of the career where he +planned to be famous; he gives way, however, to neither anger nor +repining. Oh, my love! that I could win you to believe that if you clasp +this cross to your heart, as the gift of Him who cannot err, you will +never feel it a burden!" + +Bessie smiled. She did not feel it a burden now, and Harry was not +abandoned to carry its weight alone. She did not speak: she was not apt +at the expression of her religious feelings, but they were sincere as +far as life had taught her. She could have lent her ears for a long +while to Harry Musgrave's praises without growing weary, but the vicar +now appeared, followed by the doctor, talking in a high, cheerful voice +of that discovery he had made of a remarkable mathematical genius in +Littlemire: "A most practical fellow, a wonderful hard head--will turn +out an enterprising engineer, an inventor, perhaps; has the patience of +Job himself, and an infinite genius for taking pains." + +Bessie recollected rather pathetically having once heard the sanguine, +good vicar use very similar terms in speaking of her beloved Harry. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +_FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE._ + + +Towards the end of September, Harry Musgrave and Bessie Fairfax were +married. Lady Latimer protested against this conclusion by her absence, +but she permitted Dora Meadows to go to the church to look on. The +wedding differed but very little from other weddings. Harry Musgrave was +attended by his friend Forsyth, and Polly and Totty Carnegie were the +bridesmaids. Mr. Moxon married the young couple, and Mr. Carnegie gave +the bride away. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was present, and the occasion was +further embellished by little Christie and Janey in their recent wedding +garments, and by Miss Buff and Mr. Phipps, whose cheerful appearance in +company gave rise to some ingenious prophetic remarks. The village folks +pronounced the newly-wedded pair to be the handsomest they had seen +married at Beechhurst church for many a long year, and perhaps it was +lucky that Lady Latimer stayed away, for there was nothing in Mr. Harry +Musgrave's air or countenance to cheat her into commiseration. + +"Elizabeth looked lovely--so beautifully happy," Dora Meadows reported. +"And Mr. Harry Musgrave went through the ceremony with composure: Miss +Buff said he was as cool as a cucumber. I should think he is a +faithless, unsentimental sort of person, Aunt Olympia." + +"Indeed! because he was composed?" inquired my lady coldly. + +Dora found it easier to express an opinion than to give her reasons for +it: all that Aunt Olympia could gather from her rather incoherent +attempts at explanation was that Mr. Harry Musgrave had possibly feigned +to be worse than he was until he had made sure of Elizabeth's tender +heart, for he appeared to be in very good case, both as to health and +spirits. + +"He might have died for Elizabeth if she had not loved him; and whatever +he is or is not, he most assuredly would never voluntarily have given up +the chances of an honorable career for the sake of living in idleness +even with Elizabeth. You talk nonsense, Dora. There may be persons as +foolish and contemptible as you suppose, but Elizabeth has more wit than +to have set her affections on such a one." Poor Dora was silenced. My +lady was peremptory and decisive, as usual. When Dora had duly repented +of her silly suggestion, Aunt Olympia's natural curiosity to hear +everything prevailed over her momentary caprice of ill-humor, and she +was permitted to recite the wedding in all its details--even to Mrs. +Musgrave's silk gown and the pretty little bridesmaids' dresses. The +bridegroom only she prudently omitted, and was sarcastically rebuked for +the omission by and by with the query, "And the bridegroom was nowhere, +then?" + +The bells broke out several times in the course of the day, and the +event served for a week's talk after it was over. The projected +yacht-voyage had been given up, and the young people travelled in all +simplicity, with very little baggage and no attendant except Mrs. Betts. +They went through Normandy until they came to Bayeux, where Madame +Fournier was spending the long vacation at the house of her brother the +canon, as her custom was. In the twilight of a hot autumnal evening they +went to call upon her. Lancelot's watering-can had diffused its final +shower, and the oleanders and pomegranates, grateful for the refreshing +coolness, were giving out their most delicious odors. The canon and +madame were sipping their _café noir_ after dinner, seated in the +verandah towards the garden, and Madame Babette, the toil of the day +over, was dozing and reposing under the bowery sweet clematis at the end +by her own domain. + +The elderly people welcomed their young visitors with hospitable +warmth. Two more chairs were brought out and two cups of _café noir_, +and the visit was prolonged into the warm harvest moonlight with news of +friends and acquaintances. Bessie heard that the venerable _curé_ of St. +Jean's still presided over his flock at Caen, and occupied the chintz +edifice like a shower-bath which was the school-confessional. Miss +Foster was married to a _brave fermier_, and Bessie was assured that she +would not recognize that depressed and neuralgic _demoiselle_ in the +stout and prosperous _fermière_ she had developed into. Mdlle. Adelaide +was also married; and Louise, that pretty portress, in spite of the +raids of the conscription amongst the young men of her _pays_, had found +a shrewd young innkeeper, the only son of a widow, who was so wishful to +convert her into madame at the sign of the Croix Rouge that she had +consented, and now another Louise, also very pretty, took cautious +observation of visitors before admission through the little trap of the +wicket in the Rue St. Jean. + +Then Madame Fournier inquired with respectful interest concerning her +distinguished pupil, Madame Chiverton, of whose splendid marriage in +Paris a report had reached her through her nephew. Was Monsieur +Chiverton so very rich? was he so very old and ugly? was he good to his +beautiful wife? Monsieur Chiverton, Bessie believed, was perfectly +devoted and submissive to his wife--he was not handsome nor youthful--he +had great estates and held a conspicuous position. Madame replied with +an air of satisfaction that proud Miss Ada would be in her element then, +for she was born to be a grand lady, and her own family was so poor that +she was utterly without _dot_--else, added madame with some mystery, she +might have found a _parti_ in the imperial court: there had been a brave +marshal who was also duke. Here the amiable old lady checked herself, +and said with kind reassurance to the unambitious Bessie, "But, _ma +chèrie_, you have chosen well for your happiness. Your Harry is +excellent; you have both such gayety of heart, like _us_--not like the +English, who are _si maussade_ often." + +Bessie would not allow that the English are _maussade_, but madame +refused to believe herself mistaken. + +Mr. and Mrs. Harry Musgrave still carry their gayety of heart wherever +they go. They are not fashionable people, but people like to know them. +They have adopted Italy for their country, and are most at home in +Florence, but they do not find their other home in England too far off +for frequent visits. + +They are still only two, and move about often and easily, and see more +than most travellers do, for they charter queer private conveyances for +themselves, and leave the beaten ways for devious paths that look +attractive and often turn out great successes. It was during one of +these excursions--an excursion into the Brianza--that they not long ago +fell in with a large party of old friends from England, come together +fortuitously at Bellagio. Descending early in the evening from the +luxuriant hills across which they had been driving through a long green +June day, they halted at the hospitable open gate of the Villa Giulia. +There was a pony-carriage at the door, and another carriage just moving +off after the discharge of its freight. + +"Oh, Aunt Olympia, look here! Mr. Harry Musgrave and Elizabeth!" cried a +happy voice, and there, behold! were my Lady Latimer and Dora--Lady +Lucas now--and Sir Edward; and turning back to see and asking, "Who? +who?" came Mr. Oliver Smith and his sisters, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and +his dear Julia. + +To Bessie it was a delightful encounter, and Harry Musgrave, if his +enthusiasm was not quite so eager, certainly enjoyed it as much, for his +disposition was always sociable. My lady, after a warm embrace and six +words to Elizabeth, said, "You will dine with me--we are all dining +together this evening;" and she communicated her commands to one of the +attendants. It was exactly as at home: my lady took the lead, and +everybody was under her orders. Bessie liked it for old custom's sake; +Mrs. Cecil Burleigh stood a little at a loss, and asked, "What are we to +do?" + +The Cecil Burleighs were not staying at the Villa Giulia--they were at +another hotel on the hill above--and the Lucases, abroad on their +wedding-tour, were at a villa on the edge of the lake. They had been +making a picnic with Lady Latimer and her party that day, and were just +returning when the young Musgraves appeared. The dinner was served in a +room looking upon the garden, and afterward the company walked out upon +the terraces, fell into groups and exchanged news. My lady had already +enjoyed long conversations with Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Sir Edward Lucas, +and she now took Mr. Harry Musgrave to talk to. Harry slipped his hand +within his wife's arm to make her a third in the chat, but as it was +information on Roman politics and social reforms my lady chiefly wanted, +Bessie presently released herself and joined the wistful Dora, who was +longing to give her a brief history of her own wooing and wedding. +Before the tale was told Sir Edward joined them in the rose-bower +whither they had retreated, and contributed some general news from +Norminster and Abbotsmead and the neighborhood. Lady Angleby had adopted +another niece for spaniel, _vice_ Mrs Forbes promoted to Kirkham +vicarage, and her favorite clergyman, Mr. Jones, had been made rural +dean; Mrs Stokes had a little girl; Mrs. Chiverton was carrying on a +hundred beneficent projects to the Woldshire world's wonder and +admiration: she had even prevailed against Morte. + +"And I believe she would have prevailed had poor Gifford lived; she is a +most energetic woman," Sir Edward said. Bessie looked up inquiringly. +"Mr. Gifford died of malignant fever last autumn," Sir Edward told her. +"He went to Morte in pursuit of some incorrigible poacher when fever was +raging there, and took it in its most virulent form; his death proved an +irresistible argument against the place, and Blagg made a virtue of +necessity and razed his hovels." + +Bessie heard further that her uncle Laurence Fairfax had announced the +principle that it is unwise for landowners to expect a direct profit +from the cottages and gardens of their laboring tenants, and was putting +it into practice on the Kirkham estates, to the great comfort and +advantage of his dependants. + +"My Edward began it," whispered Dora, not satisfied that her husband +should lose the honor that to him belonged. + +"Yes," said Bessie, "I remember what sensible, kind views he always took +of his duties and responsibilities." + + +"And another thing he has done," continued the little lady. "While other +men are enclosing every waste roadside scrap they dare, he has thrown +open again a large meadow by the river which once upon a time was free +to the villagers on the payment of a shilling a head for each cow turned +out upon it. The gardens to the new cottages are planted with fruit +trees, and you cannot think what interest is added to the people's lives +when they have to attend to what is pleasant and profitable for +themselves. It cannot be a happy feeling to be always toiling for a +master and never for one's own. There! Edward has taken himself off, so +I may tell you that there never was anybody so good as he is, so +generous and considerate." + +Dora evidently regarded her spouse with serious, old-fashioned devotion +and honor. Bessie smiled. She could have borne an equal tribute to her +dear Harry, and probably if Mrs. Cecil Burleigh had been as effusive as +these young folks, she might have done the same; for while they talked +in the rose-bower Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his wife came by, she leaning +on his arm and looking up and listening as to the words of an oracle. + +"Is she not sweet? What a pity it would have been had those two not +married!" said Dora softly, and they passed out of sight. + +"Come out and see the roses," Lady Latimer said to Elizabeth through the +window early next morning. "They are beautiful with the dew upon them." + +Harry Musgrave and his wife were at breakfast, with a good deal of +litter about the room. Botanical and other specimens were on the +window-sill, on the table was a sheaf of popular Italian street-songs +collected in various cities, and numerous loose leaves of manuscript. +Harry had decided that Bellagio was a pleasant spot to rest in for a +week or so, and Bessie had produced their work in divers kinds. They +were going to have a delightful quiet morning of it, when my lady tapped +on the glass and invited Elizabeth out to admire the roses. + +"Don't stay away long," whispered Harry to his wife, rising to pay his +compliments. + +He did not reseat himself to enjoy his tranquil labors for nearly an +hour, and Bessie stood in her cool white dress like a statue of +Patience, hearing Lady Latimer discourse until the sun had evaporated +the dew from the roses. Then Miss Juliana and Miss Charlotte appeared, +returning from a stroll beyond the bounds of the garden, and announced +that the day was growing very hot. "Yes, it is almost too hot to walk +now; but will you come to my room, Elizabeth? I have some photographs +that I am sure would interest you," urged my lady. She seemed surprised +and displeased when Harry entreated comically that his wife might not be +taken away, waving his hand to the numerous tasks that awaited them. + +"We also have photographs: let us compare them in the drowsy hours of +afternoon," said he; and when Bessie offered to hush his odd speeches, +he boldly averred that she was indispensable: "She has allowed me to get +into the bad habit of not being able to work without her." + +My lady could only take her leave with a hope that they would be at +leisure later in the day, and was soon after seen to foregather with an +American gentleman as ardent in the pursuit of knowledge as herself. +Afterward she found her way to the village school, and had an +instructive interview with an old priest; and on the way back to the +Villa Giulia, falling in with a very poor woman and two barefooted +little boys, her children, she administered charitable relief and earned +many heartfelt blessings. The review of photographs took place in the +afternoon, as Harry suggested, and in the cool of the evening, after the +_table d'hôte_, they had a boat on the lake and paid the Lucases a visit +before their departure for Como. Then they sauntered home to their inn +by narrow, circuitous lanes between walled gardens--steep, stony lanes +where, by and by, they came upon an iron gate standing open for the +convenience of a man who was busy within amongst the graves, for this +was the little cemetery of Bellagio. It had its grand ponderosity in +stone and marble sacred to the memory of noble dust, and a throng of +poor iron crosses, leaning this way and that amidst the unkempt, tall +grasses. + +Lady Latimer walked in; Harry Musgrave and Bessie waited outside. My +lady had many questions to ask of the gardener about the tenants of the +vaults beneath the huge monuments, and many inscriptions upon the wall +to read--pathetic, quaint, or fulsome. At length she turned to rejoin +her companions. They were gazing through a locked grate into a tiny +garden where were two graves only--a verdant little spot over which the +roses hung in clouds of beauty and fragrance. An inscription on a slab +sunk in the wall stated that this piece of ground was given for a +burial-place to his country-people by an Englishman who had there buried +his only son. The other denizen of the narrow plat was Dorothea Fairfax, +at whose head and feet were white marble stones, the sculpture on them +as distinct as yesterday. Bessie turned away with tears in her eyes. + +"What is it?" said my lady sharply, and peered through the grate. Harry +Musgrave had walked on. When Lady Latimer looked round her face was +stern and cold, and the pleasant light had gone out of it. Without +meeting Elizabeth's glance she spoke: "The dead are always in the right; +the living always in the wrong. I had forgotten it was at Bellagio that +Dorothy died. Has Oliver seen it, I wonder? I must tell him." Yes, +Oliver had been there with his other sisters in the morning: they had +not forgotten, but they hoped that dear Olympia's steps would not wander +round by that way. + +However, my lady made no further sign except by her unwonted silence. +She left the Villa Giulia the following day with all her party, her last +words to Elizabeth being, "You will let me know when you are coming to +England, and I will be at Fairfield. I would not miss seeing you: it +seems to me that we belong to one another in some fashion. Good-bye." + +Bessie went back to Harry over his work rather saddened. "I do love Lady +Latimer, Harry--her very faults and her foibles," she said. "I must have +it by inheritance." + +"If you had expressed a wish, perhaps she would not have gone so +suddenly. She appears to have no object in life but to serve other +people even while she rules them. Don't look so melancholy: she is not +unhappy--she is not to be pitied." + +"Oh, Harry! Not unhappy, and so lonely!" + +"My dear child, all the world is lonely more or less--she more, we less. +But doing all the good she can--and so much good--she must have many +hours of pure and high satisfaction. I am glad we have met." + +And Bessie was glad. These chance meetings so far away gave her sweet +intervals of reverie about friends at home. She kept her tender heart +for them, but had never a regret that she had left them all for Harry +Musgrave's sake. She sat musing with lovely pensive face. Harry looked +up from his work again. The sky was heavenly serene, there was a cool +air stirring, and slow moving shadows of cloud were upon the lake. + +"I am tired of these songs just now," said Harry, rising and stepping +over to the window where his wife sat. "This is a day to find out +something new: let us go down the garden to the landing and take a boat. +We will ask for a roll or two of bread and some wine, and we can stay as +late as we please." + +Bessie came out of her dream and did his bidding with a grace. And that +was the day's diversion. + +THE END. + + + + +ADVERTISEMENTS. + + +Standard and Popular Books + +PUBLISHED BY + +Porter & Coates, Philadelphia Pa. + + +WAVERLEY NOVELS. By SIR WALTER SCOTT. + + +*Waverley. +*Guy Mannering. +The Antiquary. +Rob Roy. +Black Dwarf; and Old Mortality. +The Heart of Mid-Lothian. +The Bride of Lammermoor; and A +Legend of Montrose. +*Ivanhoe. +The Monastery. +The Abbott. +Kenilworth. +The Pirate. +The Fortunes of Nigel. +Peveril of the Peak. +Quentin Durward. +St. Ronan's Well. +Redgauntlet. +The Betrothed; and The Talisman. +Woodstock. +The Fair Maid of Perth. +Anne of Geierstein. +Count Robert of Paris; and Castle +Dangerous. +Chronicles of the Canongate. + + +Household Edition. 23 vols. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, per vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50; half calf, +gilt, marbled edges, per vol., $3.00. Sold separately in cloth binding +only. + +Universe Edition. 25 vols. Printed on thin paper, and containing one +illustration to the volume. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per +vol., 75 cts. + +World Edition. 12 vols. Thick 12mo. (Sold in sets only.) Cloth, extra, +black and gold, $18.00; half imt. Russia, marbled edges, $24.00. + +This is the best edition for the library or for general use published. +Its convenient size, the extreme legibility of the type, which is larger +than is used in any other 12mo. edition, either English or American. + +TALES OF A GRANDFATHER. By SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 4 vols. Uniform with +the Waverley Novels. + +Household Edition. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per +vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50; half calf, gilt, +marbled edges, per vol., $3.00. + +This edition contains the Fourth Series--Tales from French history--and +is the only complete edition published in this country. + +CHARLES DICKENS' COMPLETE WORKS. Author's Edition. 14 vols., with a +portrait of the author on steel, and eight illustrations by F.O.C. +Darley, Cruikshank, Fildes, Eytinge, and others, in each volume. 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per +vol., $1.50; half imt. Russia, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50: half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, per vol., $2.75. + + +*Pickwick Papers. +*Oliver Twist, Pictures of Italy, and American Notes. +*Nicholas Nickleby. +Old Curiosity Shop, and Reprinted Pieces. +Barnaby Rudge, and Hard Times. +*Martin Chuzzlewit. +Dombey and Son. +*David Copperfield. +Christmas Books, Uncommercial Traveller, and Additional Christmas Stories. +Bleak House. +Little Dorrit. +Tale of Two Cities, and Great Expectations. +Our Mutual Friend. +Edwin Drood, Sketches, Master Humphrey's Clock, etc., etc. + + +Sold separately in cloth binding only. + +*Also in Alta Edition, one illustration, 75 cents. + +The same. Universe Edition. Printed on thin paper and containing one +illustration to the volume. 14 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, per vol., 75 cents. + +The same. World Edition. 7 vols., thick 12mo., $12.25. (Sold in sets +only.) + +CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By CHARLES DICKENS. Popular 12mo. edition; +from new electrotype plates. Large clear type. Beautifully illustrated +with 8 engravings on wood. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00. + +Alta Edition. One illustration, 75 cents. + + "Dickens as a novelist and prose poet is to be classed in the front + rank of the noble company to which he belongs. He has revived the + novel of genuine practical life, as it existed in the works of + Fielding, Smollett, and Goldsmith; but at the same time has given + to his material an individual coloring and expression peculiarly + his own. His characters, like those of his great exemplars, + constitute a world of their own, whose truth to nature every reader + instinctively recognizes in connection with their truth to + darkness."--_E.P. Whipple_. + +MACAULAY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the accession of James II. By THOMAS +BABINGTON MACAULAY. With a steel portrait of the author. Printed from +new electrotype plates from the last English Edition. Being by far the +most correct edition in the American market. 5 volumes, 12mo. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, marbled edges, per set, +$7.50; half imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, per +set, $15.00. + +Popular Edition. 5 vols., cloth, plain, $5.00. + +8vo. Edition. 5 volumes in one, with portrait. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $3.00; sheep, marbled edges, $3.50. + +MARTINEAU'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the beginning of the 19th Century +to the Crimean War. By HARRIET MARTINEAU. Complete in 4 vols., with full +Index. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.00; sheep, marbled +edges, $6.00; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $12.00. + +HUME'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the invasion of Julius Cæsar to the +abdication of James II, 1688. By DAVID HUME. Standard Edition. With the +author's last corrections and improvements; to which is prefixed a short +account of his life, written by himself. With a portrait on steel. A new +edition from entirely new stereotype plates. 5 vols., 12mo. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, marbled edges, per set, +$7.50; half imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, per +set, $15.00. + +Popular Edition. 5 vols. Cloth, plain, $5.00. + +GIBBON'S DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE. By EDWARD GIBBON. With +Notes, by Rev. H.H. MILMAN. Standard Edition. To which is added a +complete Index of the work. A new edition from entirely new stereotype +plates. With portrait on steel. 5 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, marbled edges, per set, $7.50; half +imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, per set, +$15.00. + +Popular Edition. 5 vols. Cloth, plain, $5.00. + +ENGLAND, PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. By JOEL COOK, author of "A Holiday +Tour in Europe," etc. With 487 finely engraved illustrations, +descriptive of the most famous and attractive places, as well as of the +historic scenes and rural life of England and Wales. With Mr. Cook's +admirable descriptions of the places and the country, and the splendid +illustrations, this is the most valuable and attractive book of the +season, and the sale will doubtless be very large. 4to. Cloth, extra, +gilt side and edges, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $10.00; half +morocco, full gilt edges, $10.00; full Turkey morocco, gilt edges, +$15.00; tree calf, gilt edges, $18.00. + + This work, which is prepared in elegant style, and profusely + illustrated, is a comprehensive description of England and Wales, + arranged in convenient form for the tourist, and at the same time + providing an illustrated guide-book to a country which Americans + always view with interest. There are few satisfactory works about + this land which is so generously gifted by Nature and so full of + memorials of the past. Such books as there are, either cover a few + counties or are devoted to special localities, or are merely + guide-books. The present work is believed to be the first attempt + to give in attractive form a description of the stately homes, + renowned castles, ivy-clad ruins of abbeys, churches, and ancient + fortresses, delicious scenery, rock-bound coasts, and celebrated + places of England and Wales. It is written by an author fully + competent from travel and reading, and in position to properly + describe his very interesting subject; and the artist's pencil has + been called into requisition to graphically illustrate its + well-written pages. There are 487 illustrations, prepared in the + highest style of the engraver's art, while the book itself is one + of the most attractive ever presented to the American public. + + Its method of construction is systematic, following the most + convenient routes taken by tourists, and the letter-press includes + enough of the history and legend of each of the places described to + make the story highly interesting. Its pages fairly overflow with + picture and description, telling of everything attractive that is + presented by England and Wales. Executed in the highest style of + the printer's and engraver's art, "England, Picturesque and + Descriptive," is one of the best American books of the year. + +HISTORY OF THE CIVIL WAR IN AMERICA. By the COMTE DE PARIS. With Maps +faithfully Engraved from the Originals, and Printed in Three Colors. +8vo. Cloth, per volume, $3.50; red cloth, extra, Roxburgh style, uncut +edges, $3.50; sheep, library style, $4.50; half Turkey morocco, $6.00. +Vols. I, II, and III now ready. + + The third volume embraces, without abridgment, the fifth and sixth + volumes of the French edition, and covers one of the most + interesting as well as the most anxious periods of the war, + describing the operations of the Army of the Potomac in the East, + and the Army of the Cumberland and Tennessee in the West. + + It contains full accounts of the battle of Chancellorsville, the + attack of the monitors on Fort Sumter, the sieges and fall of + Vicksburg and Port Hudson; the battles of Port Gibson and + Champion's Hill, and the fullest and most authentic account of the + battle of Gettysburg ever written. + + "The head of the Orleans family has put pen to paper with excellent + result.... Our present impression is that it will form by far the + best history of the American war."--_Athenæum, London_. + + "We advise all Americans to read it carefully, and judge for + themselves if 'the future historian of our war,' of whom we have + heard so much, be not already arrived in the Comte de + Paris."--_Nation, New York_. + + "This is incomparably the best account of our great second + revolution that has yet been even attempted. It is so calm, so + dispassionate, so accurate in detail, and at the same time so + philosophical in general, that its reader counts confidently on + finding the complete work thoroughly satisfactory."--_Evening + Bulletin, Philadelphia_. + + "The work expresses the calm, deliberate judgment of an experienced + military observer and a highly intelligent man. Many of its + statements will excite discussion, but we much mistake if it does + not take high and permanent rank among the standard histories of + the civil war. Indeed that place has been assigned it by the most + competent critics both of this country and abroad."--_Times, + Cincinnati_. + + "Messrs. Porter & Coates, of Philadelphia, will publish in a few + days the authorized translation of the new volume of the Comte de + Paris' History of Our Civil War. The two volumes in French--the + fifth and sixth--are bound together in the translation in one + volume. Our readers already know, through a table of contents of + these volumes, published in the cable columns of the _Herald_, the + period covered by this new installment of a work remarkable in + several ways. It includes the most important and decisive period of + the war, and the two great campaigns of Gettysburg and Vicksburg. + + "The great civil war has had no better, no abler historian than the + French prince who, emulating the example of Lafayette, took part in + this new struggle for freedom, and who now writes of events, in + many of which he participated, as an accomplished officer, and one + who, by his independent position, his high character and eminent + talents, was placed in circumstances and relations which gave him + almost unequalled opportunities to gain correct information and + form impartial judgments. + + "The new installment of a work which has already become a classic + will be read with increased interest by Americans because of the + importance of the period it covers and the stirring events it + describes. In advance of a careful review we present to-day some + extracts from the advance sheets sent us by Messrs. Porter & + Coates, which will give our readers a foretaste of chapters which + bring back to memory so many half-forgotten and not a few hitherto + unvalued details of a time which Americans of this generation at + least cannot read of without a fresh thrill of excitement." + +HALF-HOURS WITH THE BEST AUTHORS. With short Biographical and Critical +Notes. By CHARLES KNIGHT. + +New Household Edition. With six portraits on steel. 3 vols., thick 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.50; half imt. Russia, marbled +edges, $6.00; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $12.00. + +Library Edition. Printed on fine laid and tinted paper. With twenty-four +portraits on steel. 6 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, per set, $7.50; half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, per set, $18.00; half Russia, gilt top, +$21.00; full French morocco, limp, per set, $12.00; full smooth Russia, +limp, round corners, in Russia case, per set, $25.00; full seal grained +Russia, limp, round corners, in Russia case to match, $25.00. + + The excellent idea of the editor of these choice volumes has been + most admirably carried out, as will be seen by the list of authors + upon all subjects. Selecting some choice passages of the best + standard authors, each of sufficient length to occupy half an hour + in its perusal, there is here food for thought for every day in the + year: so that if the purchaser will devote but one-half hour each + day to its appropriate selection he will read through these six + volumes in one year, and in such a leisurely manner that the + noblest thoughts of many of the greatest minds will be firmly in + his mind forever. For every Sunday there is a suitable selection + from some of the most eminent writers in sacred literature. We + venture to say if the editor's idea is carried out the reader will + possess more and better knowledge of the English classics at the + end of the year than he would by five years of desultory reading. + + They can be commenced at any day in the year. The variety of + reading is so great that no one will ever tire of these volumes. It + is a library in itself. + +THE POETRY OF OTHER LANDS. A Collection of Translations into English +Verse of the Poetry of Other Languages, Ancient and Modern. Compiled by +N. CLEMMONS HUNT. Containing translations from the Greek, Latin, +Persian, Arabian, Japanese, Turkish, Servian, Russian, Bohemian, Polish, +Dutch, German, Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese languages. 12mo. +Cloth, extra, gilt edges, $2.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $4.00; +Turkey morocco, gilt edges, $6.00. + + "Another of the publications of Porter & Coates, called 'The Poetry + of Other Lands,' compiled by N. Clemmons Hunt, we most warmly + commend. It is one of the best collections we have seen, containing + many exquisite poems and fragments of verse which have not before + been put into book form in English words. We find many of the old + favorites, which appear in every well-selected collection of + sonnets and songs, and we miss others, which seem a necessity to + complete the bouquet of grasses and flowers, some of which, from + time to time, we hope to republish in the 'Courier.'"--_Cincinnati + Courier_. + + "A book of rare excellence, because it gives a collection of choice + gems in many languages not available to the general lover of + poetry. It contains translations from the Greek, Latin, Persian, + Arabian, Japanese, Turkish, Servian, Russian, Bohemian, Polish, + Dutch, German, Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese languages. + The book will be an admirable companion volume to any one of the + collections of English poetry that are now published. With the full + index of authors immediately preceding the collection, and the + arrangement of the poems under headings, the reader will find it + convenient for reference. It is a gift that will be more valued by + very many than some of the transitory ones at these holiday + times."--_Philadelphia Methodist_. + +THE FIRESIDE ENCYCLOPÆDIA OF POETRY. Edited by HENRY T. COATES. This is +the latest, and beyond doubt the best collection of poetry published. +Printed on fine paper and illustrated with thirteen steel engravings and +fifteen title pages, containing portraits of prominent American poets +and fac-similes of their handwriting, made expressly for this book. 8vo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, gilt edges, $5.00; half calf, gilt, +marbled edges, $7.50; half morocco, full gilt edges, $7.50; full Turkey +morocco, gilt edges, $10.00; tree calf, gilt edges, $12.00; plush, +padded side, nickel lettering, $14.00. + + "The editor shows a wide acquaintance with the most precious + treasures of English verse, and has gathered the most admirable + specimens of their ample wealth. Many pieces which have been passed + by in previous collections hold a place of honor in the present + volume, and will be heartily welcomed by the lovers of poetry as a + delightful addition to their sources of enjoyment. It is a volume + rich in solace, in entertainment, in inspiration, of which the + possession may well be coveted by every lover of poetry. The + pictorial illustrations of the work are in keeping with its + poetical contents, and the beauty of the typographical execution + entitles it to a place among the choicest ornaments of the + library."--_New York Tribune_. + + "Lovers of good poetry will find this one of the richest + collections ever made. All the best singers in our language are + represented, and the selections are generally those which reveal + their highest qualities.... The lights and shades, the finer play + of thought and imagination belonging to individual authors, are + brought out in this way (by the arrangement of poems under + subject-headings) as they would not be under any other system.... + We are deeply impressed with the keen appreciation of poetical + worth, and also with the good taste manifested by the + compiler."--_Churchman_. + + "Cyclopædias of poetry are numerous, but for sterling value of its + contents for the library, or as a book of reference, no work of the + kind will compare with this admirable volume of Mr. Coates. It + takes the gems from many volumes, culling with rare skill and + judgment."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean_. + +THE CHILDREN'S BOOK OF POETRY. Compiled by HENRY T. COATES. Containing +over 500 poems carefully selected from the works of the best and most +popular writers for children; with nearly 200 illustrations. The most +complete collection of poetry for children ever published. 4to. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, gilt side and edges, $3.00; full Turkey morocco, +gilt edges, $7.50. + + "This seems to us the best book of poetry for children in + existence. We have examined many other collections, but we cannot + name another that deserves to be compared with this admirable + compilation."--_Worcester Spy_. + + "The special value of the book lies in the fact that it nearly or + quite covers the entire field. There is not a great deal of good + poetry which has been written for children that cannot be found in + this book. The collection is particularly strong in ballads and + tales, which are apt to interest children more than poems of other + kinds; and Mr. Coates has shown good judgment in supplementing this + department with some of the best poems of that class that have been + written for grown people. A surer method of forming the taste of + children for good and pure literature than by reading to them from + any portion of this book can hardly be imagined. The volume is + richly illustrated and beautifully bound."--_Philadelphia Evening + Bulletin_. + + "A more excellent volume cannot be found. We have found within the + covers of this handsome volume, and upon its fair pages, many of + the most exquisite poems which our language contains. It must + become a standard volume, and can never grow old or + obsolete."--_Episcopal Recorder_. + +THE COMPLETE WORKS OF THOS. HOOD. With engravings on steel. 4 vols., +12mo., tinted paper. Poetical Works; Up the Rhine; Miscellanies and +Hood's Own; Whimsicalities, Whims, and Oddities. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $6.00; red cloth, paper label, gilt top, uncut edges, $6.00; half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, $14.00; half Russia, gilt top, $18.00. + + Hood's verse, whether serious or comic--whether serene like a + cloudless autumn evening or sparkling with puns like a frosty + January midnight with stars--was ever pregnant with materials for + the thought. Like every author distinguished for true comic humor, + there was a deep vein of melancholy pathos running through his + mirth, and even when his sun shone brightly its light seemed often + reflected as if only over the rim of a cloud. + + Well may we say, in the words of Tennyson, "Would he could have + stayed with us," for never could it be more truly recorded of any + one--in the words of Hamlet characterizing Yorick--that "he was a + fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." D.M. Moir. + +THE ILIAD OF HOMER RENDERED INTO ENGLISH BLANK VERSE. By EDWARD, EARL OF +DERBY. From the latest London edition, with all the author's last +revisions and corrections, and with a Biographical Sketch of Lord Derby, +by R. SHELTON MACKENZIE, D.C.L. With twelve steel engravings from +Flaxman's celebrated designs. 2 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, bev. boards, +gilt top, $3.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $7.00; half Turkey +morocco, gilt top, $7.00. + +The same. Popular edition. Two vols. in one. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.50. + + "It must equally be considered a splendid performance; and for the + present we have no hesitation in saying that it is by far the best + representation of Homer's Iliad in the English language."--_London + Times_. + + "The merits of Lord Derby's translation may be summed up in one + word, it is eminently attractive; it is instinct with life; it may + be read with fervent interest; it is immeasurably nearer than Pope + to the text of the original.... Lord Derby has given a version far + more closely allied to the original, and superior to any that has + yet been attempted in the blank verse of our language."--_Edinburg + Review_. + +THE WORKS OF FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS. Comprising the Antiquities of the Jews; a +History of the Jewish Wars, and a Life of Flavius Josephus, written by +himself. Translated from the original Greek, by WILLIAM WHISTON, A.M. +Together with numerous explanatory Notes and seven Dissertations +concerning Jesus Christ, John the Baptist, James the Just, God's command +to Abraham, etc., with an Introductory Essay by REV. H. STEBBING, D.D. +8vo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, plain edges, $3.00; cloth, red, black +and gold, gilt edges, $4.50; sheep, marbled edges, $3.50; Turkey +morocco, gilt edges, $8.00. + +This is the largest type one volume edition published. + +THE ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE EGYPTIANS, CARTHAGINIANS, ASSYRIANS, +BABYLONIANS, MEDES AND PERSIANS, GRECIANS AND MACEDONIANS Including a +History of the Arts and Sciences of the Ancients. By CHARLES ROLLIN. +With a Life of the Author, by JAMES BELL. 2 vols., royal 8vo. Sheep, +marbled edges, per set, $6.00. + +COOKERY FROM EXPERIENCE. A Practical Guide for Housekeepers in the +Preparation of Every-day Meals, containing more than One Thousand +Domestic Recipes, mostly tested by Personal Experience, with Suggestions +for Meals, Lists of Meats and Vegetables in Season, etc. By Mrs. SARA T. +PAUL. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. + +Interleaved Edition. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.75. + +THE COMPARATIVE EDITION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. + +Both Versions in One Book. + +The proof readings of our Comparative Edition have been gone over by so +many competent proof readers, that we believe the text is absolutely +correct. + +Large 12mo., 700 pp. Cloth, extra, plain edges, $1.50; cloth, extra, +bevelled boards and carmine edges, $1.75; imitation panelled calf, +yellow edges, $2.00; arabesque, gilt edges, $2.50; French morocco, limp, +gilt edges, $4.00; Turkey morocco, limp, gilt edges, $6.00. + + The Comparative New Testament has been published by Porter & + Coates. In parallel columns on each page are given the old and new + versions of the Testament, divided also as far us practicable into + comparative verses, so that it is almost impossible for the + slightest new word to escape the notice of either the ordinary + reader or the analytical student. It is decidedly the best edition + yet published of the most interest-exciting literary production of + the day. No more convenient form for comparison could be devised + either for economizing time or labor. Another feature is the + foot-notes, and there is also given in an appendix the various + words and expressions preferred by the American members of the + Revising Commission. The work is handsomely printed on excellent + paper with clear, legible type. It contains nearly 700 pages. + +THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Complete in one volume, +with two illustrations by George G. White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $1.25. + +THE THREE GUARDSMEN. By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Complete in one volume, with +two illustrations by George G. White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $1.25. + + There is a magic influence in his pen, a magnetic attraction in his + descriptions, a fertility in his literary resources which are + characteristic of Dumas alone, and the seal of the master of light + literature is set upon all his works. Even when not strictly + historical, his romances give an insight into the habits and modes + of thought and action of the people of the time described, which + are not offered in any other author's productions. + +THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. By SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, Bart. +Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00. Alta edition, +one illustration, 75 cts. + +JANE EYRE. By CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ (Currer Bell). New Library Edition. With +five illustrations by E.M. WIMPERIS. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.00. + +SHIRLEY. By CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ (Currer Bell). New Library Edition. With +five illustrations by E.M. WIMPERIS. 12mo, Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.00. + +VILLETTE. By CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ (Currer Bell). New Library Edition. With +five illustrations by E.M. WIMPERIS. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.00. + +THE PROFESSOR, EMMA and POEMS. By CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ (Currer Bell). New +Library Edition. With five illustrations by E.M. Wimperis. 12mo. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, $1.00. + +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.00; red cloth, paper label, +gilt top, uncut edges, per set, $5.00; half calf, gilt, per set, $12.00. +The four volumes forming the complete works of Charlotte Bronté (Currer +Bell). + + The wondrous power of Currer Bell's stories consists in their fiery + insight into the human heart, their merciless dissection of + passion, and their stern analysis of character and motive. The + style of these productions possesses incredible force, sometimes + almost grim in its bare severity, then relapsing into passages of + melting pathos--always direct, natural, and effective in its + unpretending strength. They exhibit the identity which always + belongs to works of genius by the same author, though without the + slightest approach to monotony. The characters portrayed by Currer + Bell all have a strongly marked individuality. Once brought before + the imagination, they haunt the memory like a strange dream. The + sinewy, muscular strength of her writings guarantees their + permanent duration, and thus far they have lost nothing of their + intensity of interest since the period of their composition. + +CAPTAIN JACK THE SCOUT; or, The Indian Wars about Old Fort Duquesne. An +Historical Novel, with copious notes. By CHARLES MCKNIGHT. Illustrated +with eight engravings. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. + + A work of such rare merit and thrilling interest as to have been + republished both in England and Germany. This genuine American + historical work has been received with extraordinary popular favor, + and has "won golden opinions from all sorts of people" for its + freshness, its forest life, and its fidelity to truth. In many + instances it even corrects History and uses the drapery of fiction + simply to enliven and illustrate the fact. + + It is a universal favorite with both sexes, and with all ages and + conditions, and is not only proving a marked and notable success in + this country, but has been eagerly taken up abroad and republished + in London, England, and issued in two volumes in the far-famed + "Tauchnitz Edition" of Leipsic, Germany. + +ORANGE BLOSSOMS, FRESH AND FADED. By T.S. ARTHUR. Illustrated. 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. + + "Orange Blossoms" contains a number of short stories of society. + Like all of Mr. Arthur's works, it has a special moral purpose, and + is especially addressed to the young who have just entered the + marital experience, whom it pleasantly warns against those social + and moral pitfalls into which they may almost innocently plunge. + +THE BAR ROOMS AT BRANTLEY; or, The Great Hotel Speculation. By T.S. +ARTHUR. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. + + "One of the best temperance stories recently issued."--_N.Y. + Commercial Advertiser_. + + "Although it is in the form of a novel, its truthful delineation of + characters is such that in every village in the land you meet the + broken manhood it pictures upon the streets, and look upon sad, + tear-dimmed eyes of women and children. The characters are not + overdrawn, but are as truthful as an artist's pencil could make + them."--_Inter-Ocean, Chicago_. + +EMMA. By JANE AUSTEN. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth extra $1.25. + +MANSFIELD PARK. By JANE AUSTEN. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. + +PRIDE AND PREJUDICE; and Northanger Abbey. By JANE AUSTEN. Illustrated. +12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. + +SENSE AND SENSIBILITY; and Persuasion. By JANE AUSTEN. Illustrated. +12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. + +The four volumes, forming the complete works of Jane Austen, in a neat +box: Cloth, extra, per set, $5.00; red cloth, paper label gilt top, +uncut edges, $5.00; half calf, gilt, per set, $12.00. + + "Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. In her + novels she has given us a multitude of characters, all, in a + certain sense, common-place, all such as we meet every day. Yet + they are all as perfectly discriminated from each other as if they + were the most eccentric of human beings.... And almost all this is + done by touches so delicate that they elude analysis, that they + defy the powers of description, and that we know them to exist only + by the general effect to which they have contributed."--_Macaulay's + Essays_. + +ART AT HOME. Containing in one volume House Decoration, by RHODA and +AGNES GARRETT; Plea for Art in the House, by W.J. LOFTIE; Music, by JOHN +HULLAH; and Dress, by Mrs. OLIPHANT. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.50. + +TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS AT RUGBY. By THOMAS HUGHES. New Edition, large +clear type. With 30 illustrations after Caldecott and others. 12mo., 400 +pp. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25; half calf, gilt, $2.75. + +Alta Edition. One illustration, 75 cents. + + "It is difficult to estimate the amount of good which may be done + by 'Tom Brown's School Days.' It gives, in the main, a most + faithful and interesting picture of our public schools, the most + English institutions of England, and which educate the best and + most powerful elements in our upper classes. But it is more than + this; it is an attempt, a very noble and successful attempt, to + Christianize the society of our youth, through the only practicable + channel--hearty and brotherly sympathy with their feelings; a book, + in short, which a father might well wish to see in the hands of his + son."--_London Times_. + +TOM BROWN AT OXFORD. By THOMAS HUGHES. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, +black and gold, $1.50; half calf, gilt, $3.00. + + "Fairly entitled to the rank and dignity of an English classic. + Plot, style and truthfulness are of the soundest British character. + Racy, idiomatic, mirror-like, always interesting, suggesting + thought on the knottiest social and religious questions, now deeply + moving by its unconscious pathos, and anon inspiring uproarious + laughter, it is a work the world will not willingly let + die."--_N.Y. Christian Advocate_. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax +by Harriet Parr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX *** + +***** This file should be named 17086-8.txt or 17086-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/0/8/17086/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/17086-8.zip b/17086-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..87d25d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/17086-8.zip diff --git a/17086-h.zip b/17086-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..523b62a --- /dev/null +++ b/17086-h.zip diff --git a/17086-h/17086-h.htm b/17086-h/17086-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a21984 --- /dev/null +++ b/17086-h/17086-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16169 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"/> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .left {text-align: left;} + .tbrk { margin-top: 2.75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem div {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem div.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + + /* index */ + + div.index ul { list-style: none; } + div.index ul li span.mono {font-family: monospace;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax +by Harriet Parr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax + +Author: Harriet Parr + (AKA Holme Lee) + +Release Date: November 17, 2005 [EBook #17086] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE</h3> + +<h1>VICISSITUDES</h1> + +<h3>OF</h3> + +<h1>BESSIE FAIRFAX.</h1> + +<h2>A NOVEL.</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>HOLME LEE</h2> + +<h3>(MISS HARRIET PARR),</h3> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF "SYLVAN HOLT'S DAUGHTER," "KATHIE BRAND," ETC.</h3> + +<h3>"Not what we could wish, but what we must even put up with."</h3> + +<h3>PHILADELPHIA:</h3> + +<h3>PORTER & COATES.</h3> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="index"> +<ul> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Her Birth and Parentage</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Lawyer's Letter</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Community of Beechhurst</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Ride with the Doctor</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Great-Ash Ford</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Against her Inclination</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Her Fate is Sealed</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Bessie's Friends at Brook</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Farewell to the Forest</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Bessie Goes into Exile</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">School-Days at Caen</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">In Course of Time</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Bessie Learns a Family Secret</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">On Board the "Foam"</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Little Chapter by the Way</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Lost Opportunity</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Bessie's Bringing Home</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Next Morning</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Neighbors to Abbotsmead</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Past and Present</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Discovery</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Preliminaries</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Bessie Shows Character</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Quiet Policy</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Dinner at Brentwood</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Morning at Brentwood</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Some Doubts and Fears</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">In Minster Court</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Lady Latimer in Woldshire</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">My Lady Revisits Old Scenes</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Success and a Repulse</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Hard Struggle</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Visit to Castlemount</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Bessie's Peacemaking</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Abbotsmead in Shadow</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Diplomatic</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Sunday Morning at Beechhurst</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Sunday Evening at Brook</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">At Fairfield</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Another Ride with the Doctor</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Friends and Acquaintances</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">How Friends may Fall Out</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">XLIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Between Themselves</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">XLIV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">A Long Dull Day</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">XLV.</a></span> <span class="smcap">The Squire's Will</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">XLVI.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Tender and True</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">XLVII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Goodness Prevails</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">XLVIII.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Certain Opinions</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">XLIX.</a></span> <span class="smcap">Bessie's Last Ride with the Doctor</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_L">L.</a></span> <span class="smcap">For Better, for Worse</span></li> +<li><span class="mono"> </span><a href="#ADVERTISEMENTS"><span class="smcap">Advertisements.</span></a></li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE</h3><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span class="smcap">Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax.</span></h2> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h3><i>HER BIRTH AND PARENTAGE.</i></h3> + +<p>The years have come and gone at Beechhurst as elsewhere, but the results +of time and change seem to have almost passed it by. Every way out of +the scattered forest-town is still through beautiful forest-roads—roads +that cleave grand avenues, traverse black barren heaths, ford shallow +rivers, and climb over ferny knolls whence the sea is visible. The +church is unrestored, the parsonage is unimproved, the long low house +opposite is still the residence of Mr. Carnegie, the local doctor, and +looks this splendid summer morning precisely as it looked in the +splendid summer mornings long ago, when Bessie Fairfax was a little +girl, and lived there, and was very happy.</p> + +<p>Bessie was not akin to the doctor. Her birth and parentage were on this +wise. Her father was Geoffry, the third and youngest son of Mr. Fairfax +of Abbotsmead in Woldshire. Her mother was Elizabeth, only child of the +Reverend Thomas Bulmer, vicar of Kirkham. Their marriage was a +love-match, concluded when they had something less than the experience +of forty years between them. The gentleman had his university debts +besides to begin life with, the lady had nothing. As the shortest way to +a living he went into the Church, and the birth of their daughter was +contemporary with Geoffry's ordination. His father-in-law gave him a +title for orders, and a lodging under his roof, and Mr. Fairfax +grudgingly allowed his son two hundred a year for a maintenance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>The young couple were lively and handsome. They had done a foolish +thing, but their friends agreed to condone their folly. Before very long +a south-country benefice, the rectory of Beechhurst, was put in +Geoffry's way, and he gayly removed with his wife and child to that +desirable home of their own. They were poor, but they were perfectly +contented. Nature is sometimes very kind in making up to people for the +want of fortune by an excellent gift of good spirits and good courage. +She was very kind in this way to Geoffry Fairfax and his wife Elizabeth; +so kind that everybody wondered with great amazement what possessed that +laughing, rosy woman to fall off in health, and die soon after the birth +of a second daughter, who died also, and was buried in the same grave +with her mother.</p> + +<p>The rector was a cheerful exemplification of the adage that man is not +made to live alone. He wore the willow just long enough for decency, and +then married again—married another pretty, portionless young woman of +no family worth mentioning. This reiterated indiscretion caused a breach +with his father, and the slender allowance that had been made him was +resumed. But his new wife was good to his little Bessie, and Abbotsmead +was a long way off.</p> + +<p>There were no children of this second marriage, which was lucky; for +three years after, the rector himself died, leaving his widow as +desolate as a clergyman's widow, totally unprovided for, can be. She had +never seen any member of her husband's family, and she made no claim on +Mr. Fairfax, who, for his part, acknowledged none. Bessie's near +kinsfolk on her mother's side were all departed this life; there was +nobody who wanted the child, or who would have regarded her in any light +but an incumbrance. The rector's widow therefore kept her unquestioned; +and being a woman of much sense and little pride, she moved no farther +from the rectory than to a cottage-lodging in the town, where she found +some teaching amongst the children of the small gentry, who then, as +now, were its main population.</p> + +<p>It was hard work for meagre reward, and perhaps she was not sorry to +exchange her mourning-weeds for bride-clothes again when Mr. Carnegie +asked her; for she was of a dependent, womanly character, and the doctor +was well-to-do <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>and well respected, and ready with all his heart to give +little Bessie a home. The child was young enough when she lost her own +parents to lose all but a reflected memory of them, and cordially to +adopt for a real father and mother those who so cordially adopted her.</p> + +<p>Still, she was Bessie Fairfax, and as the doctor's house grew populous +with children of his own, Bessie was curtailed of her indulgences, her +learning, her leisure, and was taught betimes to make herself useful. +And she did it willingly. Her temper was loving and grateful, and Mrs. +Carnegie had her recompense in Bessie's unstinting helpfulness during +the period when her own family was increasing year by year; sometimes at +the rate of one little stranger, and sometimes at the rate of twins. The +doctor received his blessings with a welcome, and a brisk assurance to +his wife that the more they were the merrier. And neither Mrs. Carnegie +nor Bessie presumed to think otherwise; though seven tiny trots under +ten years old were a sore handful; and seven was the number Bessie kept +watch and ward over like a fairy godmother in the doctor's nursery, when +her own life had attained to no more than the discretion and philosophy +of fifteen. The chief of them were boys—boys on the plan of their +worthy father; five boys with excellent lungs and indefatigable stout +legs; and two little girls no whit behind their brothers for voluble +chatter and restless agility. Nobody complained, however. They had their +health—that was one mercy; there was enough in the domestic exchequer +to feed, clothe, and keep them all warm—that was another mercy; and as +for the future, people so busy as the doctor and his wife are forced to +leave that to Providence—which is the greatest mercy of all. For it is +to-morrow's burden breaks the back, never the burden of to-day.</p> + +<p>A constant regret with Mrs. Carnegie (when she had a spare moment to +think of it) was her inability, from stress of annually recurring +circumstances, to afford Bessie Fairfax more of an education, and +especially that she was not learning to speak French and play on the +piano. But Bessie felt no want of these polite accomplishments. She had +no accomplished companions to put her to shame for her deficiencies. She +was fond of a book, she could write an unformed, legible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>hand, and add +up a simple sum. The doctor, not a bad judge, called her a shrewd, +reasonable little lass. She had mother-wit, a warm heart, and a nice +face, as sweet and fresh as a bunch of roses with the dew on them, and +he did not see what she wanted with talking French and playing the +piano; if his wife would believe him, she would go through life quite as +creditably and comfortably without any fashionable foreign airs and +graces. Thus it resulted, partly from want of opportunity, and partly +from want of ambition in herself, that Bessie Fairfax remained a rustic +little maid, without the least tincture of modern accomplishments. +Still, the doctor's wife did not forget that her dear drudge and helpful +right hand was a waif of old gentry, whose restoration the chapter of +accidents might bring about any day. Nor did she suffer Bessie to forget +it, though Bessie was mighty indifferent, and cared as little for her +gentle kindred as they cared for her. And if these gentle kindred had +increased and multiplied according to the common lot, Bessie would +probably never have been remembered by them to any purpose; she might +have married as Mr. Carnegie's daughter, and have led an obscure, happy +life, without vicissitude to the end of it, and have died leaving no +story to tell.</p> + +<p>But many things had happened at Abbotsmead since the love-match of +Geoffry Fairfax and Elizabeth Bulmer. When Geoffry married, his brothers +were both single men. The elder, Frederick, took to himself soon after a +wife of rank and fortune; but there was no living issue of the marriage; +and the lady, after a few years of eccentricity, went abroad for her +health—that is, her husband was obliged to place her under restraint. +Her malady was pronounced incurable, though her life might be prolonged. +The second son, Laurence, had distinguished himself at Oxford, and had +become a knight-errant of the Society of Antiquaries. His father said he +would traverse a continent to look at one old stone. He was hardly +persuaded to relinquish his liberty and choose a wife, when the failure +of heirs to Frederick disconcerted the squire's expectations, and, with +the proverbial ill-luck of learned men, he chose badly. His wife, from a +silly, pretty shrew, matured into a most bitter scold; and a blessed man +was he, when, after three years of tribulation, her temper <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>and a strong +fever carried her off. His Xantippe left no child. Mr. Fairfax urged the +obligations of ancient blood, old estate, and a second marriage; but +Laurence had suffered conjugal felicity enough, and would no more of it. +It was now that the squire first bethought himself seriously of his son +Geoffry's daughter. He proposed to bring her home to Abbotsmead, and to +marry her in due time to some poor young gentleman of good family, who +would take her name, and give the house of Fairfax a new lease, as had +been done thrice before in its long descent, by means of an heiress. The +poor young man who might be so obliging was even named. Frederick and +Laurence gave consent to whatever promised to mitigate their father's +disappointment in themselves, and the business was put into the hands of +their man of law, John Short of Norminster, than whom no man in that +venerable city was more respected for sagacity and integrity.</p> + +<p>If Mr. Fairfax had listened to John Short in times past, he would not +have needed his help now. John Short had urged the propriety of +recalling Bessie from Beechhurst when her father died; but no good +grandmother or wise aunt survived at Kirkham to insist upon it, and the +thing was not done. The man of law did not, however, revert to what was +past remedy, but gave his mind to considering how his client might be +extricated from his existing dilemma with least pain and offence. Mr. +Fairfax had a legal right to the custody of his young kinswoman, but he +had not the conscience to plead his legal right against the long-allowed +use and custom of her friends. If they were reluctant to let her go, and +she were reluctant to come, what then? John Short confessed that Mr. +Carnegie and Bessie herself might give them trouble if they were so +disposed; but he had a reasonable expectation that they would view the +matter through the medium of common sense.</p> + +<p>Thus much by way of prelude to the story of Bessie Fairfax's +Vicissitudes, which date from this momentous era of her life.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h3><i>THE LAWYER'S LETTER.</i></h3> + +<p>"The postman! Run, Jack, and bring the letter."</p> + +<p><i>The letter</i>, said Mr. Carnegie; for the correspondence between the +doctor's house and the world outside it was limited. Jack jumped off his +chair at the breakfast-table and rushed to do his father's bidding.</p> + +<p>"For mother!" cried he, returning at the speed of a small whirlwind, the +epistle held aloft. Down he clapped it on the table by her plate, +mounted into his chair again, and resumed the interrupted business of +the hour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie glanced aside at the letter, read the post-mark, and +reflected aloud: "Norminster—who can be writing to us from Norminster? +Some of Bessie's people?"</p> + +<p>"The shortest way would be to open the letter and see. Hand it over to +me," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>Bessie pricked her ears; but Mr. Carnegie read the letter to himself, +while his wife was busy replenishing the little mugs that came up in +single file incessantly for more milk. A momentary pause in the wants of +her offspring gave her leisure to notice her husband's visage—a +dusk-red and weather-brown visage at its best, but gathered now into +extraordinary blackness. She looked, but did not speak; the doctor was +the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"It is about Bessie—from her grandfather's agent," said he with +suppressed vexation as he replaced the large full sheet in its envelope.</p> + +<p>"What about <i>me</i>?" cried Bessie in an explosion of natural curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Your mother will tell you presently. Mind, boys, you are good to-day, +and don't tire your sister."</p> + +<p>So unusual an admonition made the boys stare, and everybody was hushed +with a presentiment of something going to happen that nobody would +approve. Mrs. Carnegie had her conjectures, not far wide of the truth, +and Bessie was conscious of impatience to get the children out of the +way, that she might have her curiosity appeased.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>The doctor discerned the insurrection of self in her face, and said, +almost bitterly, "Wait till I am gone, Bessie; you will have all the +rest of your life to think of it. Now, boys, you have done eating; be +off, and get ready for school."</p> + +<p>Jack and the rest cleared out of the parlor and pattered up stairs, +Bessie following close on their heels, purposely deaf to her mother's +voice: "You may stay, love." She was hurt and perturbed. An idea of what +was impending had flashed into her mind. After all, her abrupt exit was +convenient to her elders; they could discuss the circumstances more +freely in her absence. Mrs. Carnegie began.</p> + +<p>"Well, Thomas, what does this wonderful letter say? I think I can +guess—Bessie is to go home?"</p> + +<p>"Home! What place can be home to her if this is not?" rejoined the +doctor, and strode across the room to shut the door on his retreating +progeny, while his wife entered on the perusal of the letter.</p> + +<p>It was from Mr. John Short, on the business that we wot of. To Mr. +Carnegie it read like a cool intimation that Bessie Fairfax was +wanted—was become of importance at Abbotsmead, and must break with her +present associations. It would have been impossible to convey in +palatable words the requisition that the lawyer was put upon making; but +to Mrs. Carnegie the demand did not sound harsh, nor the manner of it +insolent. She had always kept her mind in a state of preparedness for +some such change, and the only sense of annoyance that smote her was for +her own shortcomings—for how she had suffered Bessie to be almost a +servant to her own children, and how she could neither speak French nor +play on the piano.</p> + +<p>The doctor pooh-poohed her remorse. "You have done the best for her you +could, Jane. What right has her grandfather to expect anything? He left +her on your hands without a penny."</p> + +<p>"Bessie has been worth more than she costs, if that were the way to look +at it. But she will have to leave us now; she will have to go."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will have to go. But the old gentleman shall never deny our +share in her."</p> + +<p>"The future will rest with Bessie herself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>"And she has a good heart and a will of her own. She will be a woman +with brains, whether she can play on the piano or not. Don't fret +yourself, Jane, for any fancied neglect of Bessie."</p> + +<p>"I am sadly grieved for her, Thomas; she will be sent to school, and +what a life she will lead, dear child, so backward in her learning!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! She is a bit of very good company. Wherever Bessie goes she +will hold her own. She has plenty of character, and, take my word for +it, character tells more in the long-run than talking French. There is +the gig at the gate, and I must be off, though Bessie was starting for +Woldshire by the next post. The letter is not one to be answered on the +spur of the moment; acknowledge it, and say that it shall be answered +shortly."</p> + +<p>With a comfortable kiss the doctor bade his wife good-bye for the day, +admonishing her not to fall a-crying with Bessie over what could not be +remedied. And so he left her with the tears in her eyes already. She sat +a few minutes feeling rather than reflecting, then with the lawyer's +letter in her hands went up stairs, calling softly as she went, "Bessie +dear, where are you?"</p> + +<p>"Here, mother, in my own room;" and Bessie appeared in the doorway +handling a scarlet feather-brush with which she was accustomed to dust +her small property in books and ornaments each morning after the +housemaid had performed her heavier task.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie entered with her, and shut the door; for the two-leaved +lattice was wide open, and the muslin curtains were blowing half across +the tiny triangular nook under the thatch, which had been Bessie +Fairfax's "own room" ever since she came to live in the doctor's house. +Bessie was very fond of it, very proud of keeping it neat. There were +assembled all the personal memorials of no moneysworth that had been +rescued from the rectory-sale after her father's death; two miniatures, +not valuable as works of art, but precious as likenesses of her parents; +a faint sketch in water-colors of Kirkham Church and Parsonage House, +and another sketch of Abbotsmead; an Indian work-box, a China bowl, two +jars and a dish, very antiquated, and diffusing a soft perfume <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>of +roses; and about a hundred and fifty volumes of books, selected by his +widow from the rectory library, for their binding rather than their +contents, and perhaps not very suitable for a girl's collection. But +Bessie set great store by them; and though the ancient Fathers of the +Church accumulated dust on their upper shelves, and the sages of Greece +and Rome were truly sealed books to her, she could have given a fair +account of her Shakespeare and of the Aldine Poets to a judicious +catechist, and of many another book with a story besides; even of her +Hume, Gibbon, Goldsmith, and Rollin, and of her Scott, perennially +delightful. She was, in fact, no dunce, though she had not been +disciplined in the conventional routine of education; and as for +training in the higher sense, she could not have grown into a more +upright or good girl under any guidance, than under that of her tender +and careful mother.</p> + +<p>And in appearance what was she like, this Bessie Fairfax, subjected so +early to the caprices of fortune? It is not to be pretended that she +reached the heroic standard. Mr. Carnegie said she bade fair to be very +handsome, but she was at the angular age when the framework of a girl's +bones might stand almost as well for a boy's, and there was, indeed, +something brusque, frank, and boyish in Bessie's air and aspect at this +date. She walked well, danced well, rode well—looked to the manner born +when mounted on the little bay mare, which carried the doctor on his +second journeys of a day, and occasionally carried Bessie in his company +when he was going on a round, where, at certain points, rest and +refreshment were to be had for man and beast. Her figure had not the +promise of majestic height, but it was perfectly proportioned, and her +face was a capital letter of introduction. Feature by feature, it was, +perhaps, not classical, but never was a girl nicer looking taken +altogether; the firm sweetness of her mouth, the clear candor of her +blue eyes, the fair breadth of her forehead, from which her light +golden-threaded hair stood off in a wavy halo, and the downy peach of +her round cheeks made up a most kissable, agreeable face. And there were +sense and courage in it as well as sweetness; qualities which in her +peculiar circumstances would not be liable to rust for want of using.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>The mistiness of tears clouded Bessie's eyes when her mother, without +preamble, announced the purport of the letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>"It has come at last, Bessie, the recall that I have kept you in mind +was sure to come sooner or later; not that we shall be any the less +grieved to lose you, dear. Father will miss his clever little Bessie +sadly,"—here the kind mother paused for emotion, and Bessie, athirst to +know all, asked if she might read the letter.</p> + +<p>The letter was not written for her reading, and Mrs. Carnegie hesitated; +but Bessie's promptitude overruled her doubt in a manner not unusual +with them. She took possession of the document, and sat down in the deep +window-seat to study it; and she had read but a little way when there +appeared signs in her face that it did not please her. Her mother knew +these signs well; the stubborn set of the lips, the resolute depression +of the level brows, much darker than her hair, the angry sparkle of her +eyes, which never did sparkle but when her temper was ready to flash out +in impetuous speech. Mrs. Carnegie spoke to forewarn her against rash +declarations.</p> + +<p>"It is of no use to say you <i>won't</i>, Bessie, for you <i>must</i>. Your father +said, before he went out, that we have no choice but to let you go."</p> + +<p>Bessie did not condescend to any rejoinder yet. She was reading over +again some passage of the letter by which she felt herself peculiarly +affronted. She continued to the end of it, and it was perhaps lucky that +her tenderness had then so far prevailed over her wrath that she could +only give way to tears of self-pity, instead of voice to the defiant +words that had trembled on her tongue a minute ago.</p> + +<p>"I did hope, dear, that you would not take it so much to heart," said +her mother, comforting her. "But it is mortifying to think of being sent +to school. What a pity we have let time go on till you are fifteen, and +can neither speak a word of French nor play a note on the piano!"</p> + +<p>Bessie had so often heard Mr. Carnegie's opinion of these +accomplishments that her mother's regrets wore a comic aspect to her +mind, and between laughing and crying she protested that she did not +care, she should not try to improve <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>to please <i>them</i>—meaning her +Woldshire kinsfolk mentioned in the lawyer's letter.</p> + +<p>"You have good common-sense, Bessie, and I am sure you will use it," +said her mother with persuasive gravity. "If you show off with your +tempers, that will give a color to their notion that you have been badly +brought up. You must do us and yourself what credit you can, going +amongst strangers. I am not afraid for you, unless you set up your +little back, and determine to be downright naughty and perverse."</p> + +<p>Bessie's countenance was not promising as she gave ear to these +premonitions. Her upper lip was short, and her nether lip pressed +against it with a scorny indignation. Her back was very much up, indeed, +in the moral sense indicated by her mother, and as these inauspicious +moods of hers were apt to last the longer the longer they were reasoned +with, her mother prudently refrained from further disquisition. She bade +her go about her ordinary business as if nothing had happened, and +Bessie did go about these duties with a quiet practical obedience to law +and order which bore out the testimony to her good common-sense. She +thought of Mr. John Short's letter, it is true, and once she stood for a +minute considering the sketch of Abbotsmead which hung above her chest +of drawers. "Gloomy dull old place," was her criticism on it; but even +as she looked, there ensued the reflection that the sun <i>must</i> shine +upon it sometimes, though the artist had drawn it as destitute of light +and shade as the famous portrait of Queen Elizabeth, when she wished to +be painted fair, and was painted merely insipid.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h3><i>THE COMMUNITY OF BEECHHURST.</i></h3> + +<p>The lawyer's letter from Norminster had thrust aside all minor +interests. Even the school-feast that was to be at the rectory that +afternoon was forgotten, until the boys reminded their mother of it at +dinner-time. "Bessie will take you," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>said Mrs. Carnegie, and Bessie +acquiesced. The one thing she found impossible to-day was to sit still. +We will go to the school-feast with the children. The opportunity will +be good for introducing to the reader a few persons of chief +consideration in the rural community where Bessie Fairfax acquired some +of her permanent views of life.</p> + +<p>Beechhurst Rectory was the most charming rectory-house on the Forest. It +would be delightful to add that the rector was as charming as his abode; +but Beechhurst did not call itself happy in its pastor at this +moment—the Rev. Askew Wiley. Mr. Wiley's immediate predecessor—the +Rev. John Hutton—had been a pattern for country parsons. Hale, hearty, +honest as the daylight; knowing in sport, in farming, in gardening; bred +at Westminster and Oxford; the third son of a family distinguished in +the Church; happily married, having sons of his own, and sufficient +private fortune to make life easy both in the present and the future. +Unluckily for Beechhurst, he preferred the north to the south country, +and, after holding the benefice a little over one year, he exchanged it +against Otterburn, a moorland border parish of Cumberland, whence Mr. +Wiley had for some time past been making strenuous efforts to escape. +Both were crown livings, but Otterburn stood for twice as much in the +king's books as Beechhurst. Mr. Wiley was, however, willing to pay the +forfeiture of half his income to get away from it. He had failed to make +friends with the farmers, his principal parishioners, and the vulgar +squabbles of Otterburn had grown into such a notorious scandal that the +bishop was only too thankful to promote his removal. Mrs. Wiley's health +was the ostensible reason, and though Otterburn knew better, Beechhurst +accepted it in good faith, and gave its new rector a cordial +welcome—none the less cordial that his wife came on the scene a robust +and capable woman, ready and fit for parish work, and with no air of the +fragile invalid it had been led to expect.</p> + +<p>But men are shrewd on the Forest as on the Border, and the Rev. Askew +Wiley was soon at a discount. His appearance was eminently clerical, but +no two of his congregation formed the same opinion of what he was +besides, unless the opinion that they did not like him. It was a clear +case of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>Dr. Fell; for there was nothing in his life to except to, and +in his character only a deficiency of courage. <i>Only?</i> But +stay—consider what a crop of servile faults spring from a deficiency of +courage.</p> + +<p>"He do so beat the devil about the bush that there is no knowing where +to have him," was the dictum early enunciated by a village Solomon, +which went on to be verified more and more, until the new rector was as +much despised on the Forest as on the Border. But he had a different +race to deal with. At Otterburn the rude statesmen provoked and defied +him with loud contempt; at Beechhurst his congregation dwindled down to +the gentlefolks, who tolerated him out of respect to his office, and to +the aged poor, who received a weekly dole of bread, bequeathed by some +long-ago benefactor; and these were mostly women. Mr. Carnegie was a +fair sample of the men, and he made no secret of his aversion.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Askew Wiley, see him as he paces the lawn, his supple back +writhed just a little towards my lady deferentially, his head just a +little on one side, lending her an ear. By the gait of him he is looking +another way. Yes; for now my lady turns, he turns too, and they halt +front to front; his pallid visage half averted from her observation, his +glittering eyes roving with bold stealth over the populous garden, and +his thin-lipped, scarlet mouth working and twisting incessantly in the +covert of his thick-set beard.</p> + +<p>My lady speaks with an impatience scarcely controlled. She is the great +lady of Beechhurst, the Dowager Lady Latimer, in the local estimation a +very great lady indeed; once a leader in society, now retired from it, +and living obscurely on her rich dower in the Forest, with almsdeeds and +works of patronage and improvement for her pleasure and her occupation. +My lady always loved her own way, but she had worked harmoniously with +Mr. Hutton through his year's incumbency. He was sufficient for his +duties, and gave her no opportunity for the exercise of unlawful +authority, no ground for encroachments, no room for interference. But it +was very different with poor Mr. Wiley. Everybody knew that he was a +trial to her. He could not hold his own against her propensity to +dictate. He deferred to her, and contrived to thwart her, to do the very +thing she would not have done, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>and to do it in the most obnoxious way. +The puzzle was—could he help it? Was he one of those tactless persons +who are for ever blundering, or had he the will to assert himself, and +not the pluck to do it boldly? His refuge was in round-about +manœuvres, and my lady felt towards him as those intolerant +Cumberland statesmen felt before their enmity made the bleak moorland +too hot for him. He was called an able man, but his foibles were +precisely of the sort to create in the large-hearted of the gentle sex +an almost masculine antipathy to their spiritual pastor. Bessie Fairfax +could not bear him, and she could render a reason. Mr. Wiley received +pupils to read at his house, and he had refused to receive a dear +comrade of hers. It was his rule to receive none but the sons of +gentlemen. Young Musgrave was the son of a farmer on the Forest, who +called cousins with the young Carnegies. As the connection was wide, +perhaps the vigorous dislike of more important persons than Bessie +Fairfax is sufficiently accounted for. All the world is agreed that a +slight wound to men's self-love rankles much longer than a mortal +injury.</p> + +<p>It is not, however, to be supposed that the Beechhurst people spited +themselves so far as to keep away from the rector's school-treat because +they did not love the rector. (By the by, it was not his treat, but only +buns and tea by subscription distributed in his grounds, with the +privilege of admittance to the subscribers.) The orthodox gentility of +the neighborhood assembled in force for the occasion when the sun shone +upon it as it shone to-day, and the entertainment was an event for +children of all classes. If the richer sort did not care for buns, they +did for games; and the Carnegie boys were so eager to lose none of the +sport that they coaxed Bessie to take time by the forelock, and +presented themselves almost first on the scene. Mrs. Wiley, ready and +waiting out of doors to welcome her more distinguished guests, met a +trio of the little folks, in Bessie's charge, trotting round the end of +the house to reach the lawn.</p> + +<p>"Always in good time, Bessie Carnegie," said she. "But is not your +mother coming?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Mrs. Wiley," said Bessie with prim decorum.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>"By the by, that is not your name. What is your name, Bessie?"</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth Fairfax."</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes; now I remember—Elizabeth Fairfax. And is your uncle pretty +well? I suppose we shall see him later in the day? He ought to look in +upon us before we break up. There! run away to the children in the +orchard, and leave the lawn clear."</p> + +<p>Bessie accepted her dismissal gladly, thankful to escape the +catechetical ordeal that would have ensued had there been leisure for +it. She was almost as shy of the rector's wife as of the rector. Mrs. +Wiley had a brusque, absent manner, and it was a trick of hers to expose +her young acquaintance to a fire of questions, of which she as regularly +forgot the answers. She had often affronted Bessie Fairfax by asking her +real name, and in the next breath calling her affably Bessie Carnegie, +the doctor's step-daughter, niece or other little kinswoman whom he kept +as a help in his house for charity's sake.</p> + +<p>Bessie had but faint recollections of the rectory as her home, for since +her father's death she had never gone there except as a visitor on +public days. But the tradition was always in her memory that once she +had lived in those pleasant rooms, had run up and down those broad sunny +stairs, and played on the spacious lawns of that mossy, tree-shadowed +garden. In the orchard had assembled, besides the children, a group of +their ex-teachers—Miss Semple and her sister, the village dressmakers, +Miss Genet, the daughter at the post-office, and the two Miss +Mittens—well-behaved and well-instructed young persons whom Mr. Wiley's +predecessors had been pleased to employ, but for whom Mrs. Wiley found +no encouragement. She had the ordering of the school, and preferred +gentlewomen for her lay-sisters. She had them, and only herself knew +what trouble in keeping them punctual to their duty and in keeping the +peace amongst them. There was dear fat Miss Buff, who had been right +hand in succession to Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Roebuck and Mr. Hutton, who +adored supremacy, and exercised it with the easy sway of long usage; she +felt herself pushed on one side by that ardent young Irish recruit, Miss +Thusy O'Flynn, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>whose peculiar temper no one cared to provoke, and who +ruled by the terror of it with a caprice that was trying in the last +degree. Miss Buff gave way to her, but not without grumbling, appealing, +and threatening to withdraw her services. But she loved her work in the +school and in the choir, and could not bear to punish herself or let +Miss Thusy triumph to the extent of driving her into private life; so +she adhered to her charge in the hope of better days, when she would +again be mistress paramount. And the same did Miss Wort—also one of the +old governing body—but from higher motives, which she was not afraid to +publish: she distrusted Mr. Wiley's doctrine, and she feared that he was +inclined to truckle to the taste for ecclesiastical decoration +manifested by certain lambs of his flock who doted on private +theatricals and saw no harm in balls. She adhered to her post, that the +truth might not suffer for want of a witness; and if the rising +generation of girls in preposterous hats had taken her for their pattern +of a laborious teacher, true to time as the school-bell itself, Mrs. +Wiley's preference for young ladies over young persons would have been +better justified, and Lady Latimer would not have been able to find +fault with the irregular attendance of the children, to express her +opinion that the school was not what it might be, and to throw out hints +that she must set about reforming it unless it soon reformed itself.</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax was on speaking terms with nearly everybody, and Miss +Mitten called her the moment she appeared to help in setting a ring for +"drop hankercher." Two of the little Carnegies merrily joined hands with +the rest, and they were just about to begin, Jack being unanimously +nominated as first chase for his dexterous running, when a shrill voice +called to them peremptorily to desist.</p> + +<p>"Why have you fallen out of rank? You ought to have kept your ranks +until you had sung grace before tea. Get into line again quickly, for +here come the buns;" and there was Miss Thusy O'Flynn, perched on a +mole-hill, in an attitude of command, waving her parasol and +demonstrating how they were to stand.</p> + +<p>"The buns, indeed! It is time, I'm sure," muttered Miss Buff, +substantial in purple silk and a black lace bonnet. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>Her rival was a +pretty, red-haired, resolute little girl, very prettily dressed, who +showed to no disadvantage on the mole-hill. But Miss Buff could see no +charm she had; she it was who had given leave for a game, to pass the +time before tea. The children had been an hour in the orchard, and the +feast was still delayed.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the kettle does not boil," suggested Miss Wort, indulgently.</p> + +<p>"We are kept waiting for Miss O'Flynn's aunt," rejoined Miss Buff. "Here +she comes, with our angelical parson, and Lady Latimer, out in the cold, +walking behind them."</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax looked up. Lady Latimer was her supreme admiration. She +did not think that another lady so good, so gracious, so beautiful, +enriched the world. If there did, that lady was not the Viscountess +Poldoody. Bessie had a lively sense of fun, and the Irish dame was a +figure to call a smile to a more guarded face than hers—a short squab +figure that waddled, and was surmounted by a negative visage composed of +pulpy, formless features, and a brown wig of false curls—glaringly +false, for they were the first thing about her that fixed the eye, +though there were many matters besides to fascinate an observer with +leisure to look again. She seemed, however, a most free and cheerful old +lady, and talked in a loud, mellow voice, with a pleasant touch of the +brogue. She had been a popular Dublin singer and actress in her day—a +day some forty years ago—but only Lady Latimer and herself in the +rectory garden that afternoon were aware of the fact.</p> + +<p>Grand people possessed an irresistible attraction for Mr. Wiley. The +Viscountess Poldoody had taken a house in his parish for the fine +season, and came to his church with her niece; he had called upon her, +and now escorted her to the orchard with a fulsome assiduity which was +betrayed to those who followed by the uneasy writhing of his back and +shoulders. With many complimentary words he invited her to distribute +the prizes to the children.</p> + +<p>"If your ladyship will so honor them, it will be a day in their lives to +remember."</p> + +<p>"Give away the prizes? Oh yes, if ye'll show me which choild to give 'em +to," replied the viscountess with a good-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>humored readiness. Then, with +a propriety of feeling which was thought very nice in her, she added, in +the same natural, distinct manner, standing and looking round as she +spoke:</p> + +<p>"But is it not my Lady Latimer's right? What should I know of your +children, who am only a summer visitor?"</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer acknowledged the courteous disclaimer with that exquisite +smile which had been the magic of her loveliness always. The children +would appreciate the kindness of a stranger, she said; and with a +perfect grace yielded the precedence, and at the same time resigned the +opportunity she had always enjoyed before of giving the children a +monition once a year on their duty to God, their parents, their pastors +and masters, elders and betters, and neighbors in general. Whether my +lady felt aggrieved or not nobody could discern; but the people about +were aggrieved for her, and Miss Buff confided to a friend, in a +semi-audible whisper of intense exasperation, that the rector was the +biggest muff and toady that ever it had been her misfortune to know. +Miss Buff, it will be perceived, liked strong terms; but, as she justly +pleaded in extenuation of a taste for which she was reproached, what was +the use of there being strong terms in the language if they were not to +be applied on suitable occasions?</p> + +<p>The person, however, on whom this incident made the deepest impression +was Bessie Fairfax. Bessie admired Lady Latimer because she was +admirable. She had listened too often to Mr. Carnegie's radical talk to +have any reverence for rank and title unadorned; but her love of beauty +and goodness made her look up with enthusiastic respect to the one noble +lady she knew, of whom even the doctor spoke as "a great woman." The +children sang their grace and sat down to tea, and Lady Latimer stood +looking on, her countenance changed to a stern gravity; and Bessie, +quite diverted from the active business of the feast, stood looking at +her and feeling sorry. The child's long abstracted gaze ended by drawing +my lady's attention. She spoke to her, and Bessie started out of her +reverie, wide-awake in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Is there nothing for you to do, Bessie Fairfax, that you stand musing? +Bring me a chair into the shade of the old walnut tree over yonder. I +have something to say to you. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>Do you remember what we talked about that +wet morning last winter at my house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady," replied Bessie, and brought the chair with prompt +obedience.</p> + +<p>On the occasion alluded to Bessie had been caught in a heavy rain while +riding with the doctor. He had deposited her in Lady Latimer's kitchen, +to be dried and comforted by the housekeeper while he went on his +farther way; and my lady coming into the culinary quarter while Bessie +was there, had given her a delicious cheese-cake from a tin just hot out +of the oven, and had then entered into conversation with her about her +likes and dislikes, concluding with the remark that she had in her the +making of an excellent National School mistress, and ought to be trained +for that special walk in life. Bessie had carried home a report of what +Lady Latimer had said; but neither her father nor mother admired the +suggestion, and it had not been mentioned again. Now, however, being +comfortably seated, my lady revived it in a serious, methodical way, +Bessie standing before her listening and blushing with a confusion that +increased every moment. She was thinking of the letter from Norminster, +but she did not venture yet to arrest Lady Latimer's flow of advice. My +lady did not discern that anything was amiss. She was accustomed to have +her counsels heard with deference. From advice she passed into +exhortation, assuming that Bessie was, of course, destined to some sort +of work for a living—to dressmaking, teaching or service in some +shape—and encouraging her to make advances for her future, that it +might not overtake her unprepared. Lady Latimer had not come into the +Forest until some years after the Reverend Geoffry Fairfax's death, and +she had no knowledge of Bessie's birth, parentage and connections; but +she had a principle against poor women pining in the shadow of gentility +when they could help themselves by honest endeavors; and also, she had a +plan for raising the quality of National School teaching by introducing +into the ranks of the teachers young gentlewomen unprovided by fortune. +She advised no more than she would have done, and all she said was good, +if Bessie's circumstances had been what she assumed. But Bessie, +conscious that they were about to suffer a change, felt impelled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>at +last to set Lady Latimer right. Her shy face mitigated the effect of her +speech.</p> + +<p>"I have kindred in Woldshire, my lady, who want me. I am the only child +in this generation, and my grandfather Fairfax says that it is necessary +for me to go back to my own people."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer's face suddenly reflected a tint of Bessie's. But no +after-thought was in Bessie's mind, her simplicity was genuine. She +esteemed it praise to be selected as a fit child to teach children; and, +besides, whatever my lady had said at this period would have sounded +right in Bessie's ears. When she had uttered her statement, she waited +till Lady Latimer spoke.</p> + +<p>"Do you belong to the Fairfaxes of Kirkham? Is your grandfather Richard +Fairfax of Abbotsmead?" she said in a quick voice, with an inflection of +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady. My father was Geoffry, the third son; my mother was +Elizabeth Bulmer."</p> + +<p>"I knew Abbotsmead many years ago. It will be a great change for you. +How old are you, Bessie? Fourteen, fifteen?"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen, my lady, last birthday, the fourth of March."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer thought to herself, "Here is an exact little girl!" Then +she said aloud, "It would have been better for you if your grandfather +had recalled you when you were younger."</p> + +<p>Bessie was prepared to hear this style of remark, and to repudiate the +implication. She replied almost with warmth, "My lady, I have lost +nothing by being left here. Beechhurst will always be home to me. If I +had my choice I would not go to Kirkham."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer thought again what a nice voice Bessie had, and regarded +her with a growing interest, that arose in part out of her own +recollections. She questioned her concerning her father's death, and the +circumstances of her adoption by Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie, and reflected +that, happily, she was too simple, too much of a child yet, for any but +family attachments—happily, because, though Bessie had no experience to +measure it by, there would be a wide difference between her position as +the doctor's adopted daughter amongst a house <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>full of children, and as +heiress presumptive of Mr. Fairfax of Abbotsmead.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever seen Abbotsmead, Bessie?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No, my lady, I have never been in Woldshire since I was a baby. I was +born at Kirkham vicarage, my grandfather Bulmer's house, but I was not a +year old when we came away. I have a drawing of Abbotsmead that my +mother made—it is not beautiful."</p> + +<p>"But Abbotsmead is very beautiful—the country round about is not so +delicious as the Forest, for it has less variety: it is out of sight of +the sea, and the trees are not so grand, but Abbotsmead itself is a +lovely spot. The house stands on a peninsula formed by a little brawling +river, and in the park are the ruins that give the place its name. I +remember the garden at Abbotsmead as a garden where the sun always +shone."</p> + +<p>Bessie was much cheered. "How glad I am! In my picture the sun does not +shine at all. It is the color of a dark day in November."</p> + +<p>The concise simplicity of Bessie's talk pleased Lady Latimer. She +decided that Mrs. Carnegie must be a gentlewoman, and that Bessie had +qualities capable of taking a fine polish. She would have held the child +in conversation longer had not Mrs. Wiley come up, and after a word or +two about the success of the feast, bade Bessie run away and see that +her little brothers were not getting into mischief. Lady Latimer nodded +her a kind dismissal, and off she went.</p> + +<p>Six o'clock struck. By that time the buns were all eaten, the prizes +were all distributed, and the cream of the company had driven or walked +away, but cricket still went on in the meadow, and children's games in +the orchard. One or two gentlemen had come on the scene since the fervor +of the afternoon abated. Admiral Parkins, who governed Beechhurst under +Lady Latimer, was taking a walk round the garden with his brother +church-warden, Mr. Musgrave, and Mr. Carnegie had made his bow to the +rector's wife, who was not included in his aversion for the rector. Mr. +Phipps, also a gentleman of no great account in society, but a liberal +supporter of the parish charities, was there—a small, grotesque man to +look at, who had always an objection in his mouth. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>Was any one praised, +he mentioned a qualification; was any one blamed, he interposed a plea. +He had a character for making shrewd, incisive remarks, and was called +ironical, because he had a habit of dispersing flattering delusions and +wilful pretences by bringing the dry light of truth to bear upon them—a +gratuitous disagreeableness which was perhaps the reason why he was now +perched on a tree-stump alone, casting shy, bird-like glances hither and +thither—at two children quarrelling over a cracked tea-cup, at the +rector halting about uncomfortably amongst the "secondary people," at +his wife being instructed by Lady Latimer, at Lady Latimer herself, +tired but loath to go, at Bessie Fairfax, full of spirit and +forgetfulness, running at speed over the grass, a vociferous, noisy +troop of children after her.</p> + +<p>"Stop, stop, you are not to cross the lawn!" cried Mrs. Wiley. "Bessie +Carnegie, what a tomboy you are! We might be sure if there was any +roughness you were at the head of it."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer also looked austere at the infringement of respect. Bessie +did not hear, and sped on till she reached the tree-stump where Mr. +Phipps was resting, and touched it—the game was "tiggy-touch-wood." +There she halted to take breath, her round cheeks flushed, her carnation +mouth open, and her pursuers baffled.</p> + +<p>"You are a pretty young lady!" said Mr. Phipps, not alluding to Bessie's +beauty, but to her manner sarcastically. Bessie paid no heed. They were +very good friends, and she cared nothing for his sharp observations. But +she perceived that the rout of children was being turned back to the +orchard, and made haste to follow them.</p> + +<p>Admiral Parkins and Mr. Musgrave had foregathered with Mr. Carnegie to +discuss some matters of parish finance. They drew near to Mr. Phipps and +took him into the debate. It was concerning a new organ for the church, +a proposed extension of the school-buildings, an addition to the +master's salary, and a change of master. The present man was +old-fashioned, and the spirit of educational reform had reached +Beechhurst.</p> + +<p>"If we wait until Wiley moves in the business, we may wait till +doomsday. The money will be forthcoming when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>it is shown that it is +wanted," said the admiral, whose heart was larger than his income.</p> + +<p>"Lady Latimer will not be to ask twice," said Mr. Musgrave. "Nor Mr. +Phipps."</p> + +<p>"We must invite her ladyship to take the lead," said Mr. Carnegie.</p> + +<p>"Let us begin by remembering that, as a poor community, we have no right +to perfection," said Mr. Phipps. "The voluntary taxes of the locality +are increasing too fast. It is a point of social honor for all to +subscribe to public improvements, and all are not gifted with a +superfluity of riches. If honor is to be rendered where honor is due, +let Miss Wort take the lead. Having regard to her means, she is by far +the most generous donor in Beechhurst."</p> + +<p>Mr. Phipps's proposal was felt to need no refutation. The widow's mite +is such a very old story—not at all applicable to the immense +operations of modern philanthropy. Besides, Miss Wort had no ambition +for the glory of a leader, nor had she the figure for the post. Mr. +Phipps was not speaking to be contradicted, only to be heard.</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer, on her way to depart, came near the place where the +gentlemen were grouped, and turned aside to join them, as if a sudden +thought had struck her. "You are discussing our plans?" she said. "A +certificated master to supersede poor old Rivett must be the first +consideration in our rearrangement of the schools. The children have +been sacrificed too long to his incompetence. We must be on the look-out +for a superior man, and make up our minds to pay him well."</p> + +<p>"Poor old Rivett! he has done good work in his day, but he has the fault +that overtakes all of us in time," said Mr. Phipps. "For the master of a +rural school like ours, I would choose just such another man—of rough +common-sense, born and bred in a cottage, and with an experimental +knowledge of the life of the boys he has to educate. Certificated if you +please, but the less conventionalized the better."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer did not like Mr. Phipps—she thought there was something of +the spy in his nature. She gazed beyond him, and was peremptory about +her superior man—so peremptory that she had probably already fixed on +the fortunate <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>individual who would enjoy her countenance. Half an hour +later, when Bessie Fairfax was carrying off her reluctant brothers to +supper and to bed, my lady had not said all she had to say. She was +still projecting, dissenting, deciding and undoing, and the gentlemen +were still listening with patient deference. She had made magnificent +offers of help for the furtherance of their schemes, and had received +warm acknowledgments.</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship is bountiful as usual—for a consideration," said Mr. +Phipps, emitting a long suppressed groan of weariness, when her gracious +good-evening released them. Mr. Phipps revolted against my lady's yoke, +the others wore it with grace. Admiral Parkins said Beechhurst would be +in a poor way without her. Mr. Musgrave looked at his watch, and avowed +the same opinion. Mr. Carnegie said nothing. He knew so much good of +Lady Latimer that he had an almost unlimited indulgence for her. It was +his disposition, indeed, to be indulgent to women, to give them all the +homage and sympathy they require.</p> + +<p>Mr. Phipps and Mr. Carnegie quitted the rectory-garden, and crossed the +road to the doctor's house in company. Bessie Fairfax, worn out with the +emotions and fatigues of the day, had left the children to their mother +and stout Irish nurse, and had collapsed into her father's great chair +in the parlor. She sprang up as the gentlemen entered, and was about to +run away, when Mr. Phipps spread out his arms to arrest her flight.</p> + +<p>"Well, Cinderella, the pumpkin-coach has not come yet to fetch you +away?" said he. The application of the parable of Cinderella to her case +was Mr. Phipps's favorite joke against Bessie Fairfax.</p> + +<p>"No, but it is on the road. I hear the roll of the wheels and the crack +of Raton's whip," said she with a prodigious sigh.</p> + +<p>"So it is, Phipps—that's true! We are going to lose our Bessie," said +Mr. Carnegie, drawing her upon his knee as he sat down.</p> + +<p>"Poor little tomboy! A nice name Mrs. Wiley has fitted her with! And she +is going to be a lady? I should not wonder if she liked it," said Mr. +Phipps.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>"As if ladies were not tomboys too!" said she with wise scorn, half +laughing, half pouting. Then with wistfulness: "Will it be so very +different? Why should it? I hate the idea of going away from +Beechhurst!" and she laid her cheek against the doctor's rough whisker +with the caressing, confiding affection that made her so inexpressibly +dear to him.</p> + +<p>"Here is my big baby," said he. "A little more, and she will persuade me +to say I won't part with her."</p> + +<p>Bessie flashed out impetuously: "Do say so! do say so! If you won't part +with me, I won't go. Who can make us?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie came into the room, serious and reasonable. She had caught +Bessie's last words, and said: "If we were to let you have your own way +now, Bessie dear, ten to one that you would live to reproach us with not +having done our duty by you. My conscience is clear that we ought to +give you up. What is your opinion, Mr. Phipps?"</p> + +<p>"My opinion is, Mrs. Carnegie, that when the pumpkin-coach calls for +Cinderella, she will jump in, kiss her hand to all friends in the +Forest, and drive off to Woldshire in a delicious commotion of tearful +joy and impossible expectation."</p> + +<p>Bessie cried out vehemently against this.</p> + +<p>"There, there!" said the doctor, as if he were tired, "that is enough. +Let us proclaim a truce. I forbid the subject to be mentioned again +unless I mention it. And let my word be law."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie's word, in that house, was law.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h3><i>A RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR.</i></h3> + +<p>The next morning Mr. Carnegie was not in imperative haste to start on +his daily circuit. The boys had to give him an account of yesterday's +fun. He heard them comfortably, and rejoiced the heart of Bessie by +telling her to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>be ready to ride with him at ten o'clock—her mother +could spare her. Bessie was not to wait for when the hour came. These +rides with her father were ever her chief delight. She wore a round +beaver hat with a rosette in front, and a habit of dark blue serge. +(There had been some talk of a new one for her, but now her mother +reflected that it would not be wanted.)</p> + +<p>It was a delicate morning, the air was light and clear, the sky gray and +silvery. Bessie rode Miss Hoyden, the doctor's little mare, and trotted +along at a brisk pace by his stout cob Brownie. She had a sense of the +keenest enjoyment in active exercise. Mr. Carnegie looked aside at her +often, his dear little Bessie, thinking, but not speaking, of the +separation that impended. Bessie's pleasure in the present was enough to +throw that into the background. She did not analyze her sensations, but +her cheeks glowed, her eyes shone, and she knew that she was happy. They +were on their way to Littlemire, where Mr. Moxon lived—a poor clergyman +with whom young Musgrave was reading. Almost as soon as they were clear +of the village they struck into a green ride through the beeches, and +cut off a great angle of the high-road, coming out again on a furzy +opening dotted with old oaks, where the black pigs of the cottagers +would by and by feast and grow fat on their common rights. It was a +lovely, damp, perilous spot, haunted by the ghost of fever and ague. The +soft, vivid turf was oozy there, and the long-rooted stones were clothed +with wet, rusted moss. The few cottages of the hamlet wore deep hoods of +thatch, and stood amongst prosperous orchards; one of them, a little +larger than the rest, being the habitation of Mr. Moxon, the vicar of +Littlemire, whose church, dame-school, and income were all of the same +modest proportions as his dwelling. He had an invalid wife and no +attraction for resident pupils, but he was thankful when he could get +one living not too far off. Young Musgrave walked from Brook twice a +week—a long four miles—to read with him.</p> + +<p>The lad was in the vicar's parlor when Mr. Carnegie and Bessie Fairfax +stopped at the gate. He came out with flushed brow and ruffled hair to +keep Bessie company and hold the doctor's horse while he went up stairs +with Mr. Moxon to visit his wife. That room where she lay in pain often, +in weakness <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>always, was a mean, poorly-furnished room, with a window in +the thatch, and just a glimpse of heaven beyond, but that glimpse was +all reflected in the blessedness of her peaceful face. Mr. Moxon's +threadbare coat hung loosely on his large lean frame, like the coat of a +poor, negligent gentleman, such as he was. He had the reputation of +being a capital scholar, but he had not made the way in the world that +had been expected of him. He was vicar of Littlemire when the Reverend +Geoffry Fairfax came into the Forest, and he was vicar of Littlemire +still, with no prospect of promotion. Perhaps he did not seek it. His +wife loved this buried nook, and he loved it for her sake. Mr. Carnegie +took it often in his rides, because they called him their friend and he +could help them. They had not many besides: Lady Latimer and Mr. Phipps +did not forget them, but they were quite out of the way of the visiting +part of the community.</p> + +<p>"You have done with Hampton, then, Harry?" Bessie said, waiting with her +comrade at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Yes, so far as school goes, except that I shall always have a kindness +for the old place and the old doctor. It was a grand thing, my winning +that scholarship, Bessie."</p> + +<p>"And now you will have your heart's desire—you will go to Oxford."</p> + +<p>"Yes; Moxon is an Oxford man, and the old doctor says out-and-out the +best classic of his acquaintance. You have not seen my prize-books yet. +When are you coming to Brook, Bessie?"</p> + +<p>"The first time I have a chance. What are the books, Harry?"</p> + +<p>"All standard books—poetry," Harry said.</p> + +<p>The young people's voices, chiming harmoniously, sounded in Mrs. Moxon's +room. The poor suffering lady, who was extended on an inclined couch +below the window, looked down at them, and saw Harry standing at Miss +Hoyden's head, with docile Brownie's bridle on his left arm, and Bessie, +with the fine end of her slender whip, teasing the dark fuzz of his +hair. They made a pretty picture at the gate, laughing and chattering +their confidences aloud.</p> + +<p>"What did Harry Musgrave say to your news, Bessie?" her father asked as +they rode away from the vicar's house.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>"I forgot to tell him!" cried she, pulling up and half turning round. +"I had so much to hear." But Mr. Carnegie said it was not worth while to +bring Harry out again from his books. How fevered the lad looked! Why +did not Moxon patronize open windows?</p> + +<p>The road they were pursuing was a gradual long ascent, which brought +them in sight of the sea and of a vast expanse of rolling heath and +woodland. When they reached the top of the hill they breathed their +horses a few minutes and admired the view, then struck into a +bridle-track across the heath, and regained the high-road about a mile +from Beechhurst. Scudding along in front of them was the familiar figure +of Miss Wort in her work-a-day costume—a drab cloak and poke bonnet, +her back up, and limp petticoats dragging in the dust. She turned +swiftly in at the neat garden-gate that had a green space before it, +where numerous boles of trees, lopt of their branches, lay about in +picturesque confusion. A wheelwright's shed and yard adjoined the +cottage, and Mr. Carnegie, halting without dismounting, whistled loud +and shrill to call attention. A wiry, gray-headed man appeared from the +shed, and came forward with a rueful, humorous twinkle in his shrewd +blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Done again, Mr. Carnegie!" said he. "The old woman's done you again. It +is no good denying her physic, for physic she will have. She went to +Hampton Infirmary last Saturday with a ticket from Miss Wort, and +brought home two bottles o' new mixture. So you see, sir, between 'em, +you're frustrated once more."</p> + +<p>"I am not surprised. Drugging is as bad a habit as drinking, and as hard +to leave off. Miss Wort has just gone in to your wife, so I will not +intrude. What is your son doing at present, Christie?"</p> + +<p>"He's about somewhere idling with his drawing-book and bits o' colors. +He takes himself off whenever it is a finer day than common. Most likely +he's gone to Great-Ash Ford. He's met with a mate there after his own +mind—an artist chap. Was you wanting him, Mr. Carnegie?"</p> + +<p>"There is a job of painting to do at my stable, but it can wait. Only +tell him, and he will suit his convenience."</p> + +<p>At this moment Miss Wort reappeared in a sort of furtive <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>hurry. She +gave a timid, sidelong glance at the doctor, and then addressed Bessie. +Mr. Carnegie had his eye upon her: she was the thorn in his professional +flesh. She meddled with his patients—a pious woman for whom other +people's souls and internal complaints supplied the excitement absent +from her own condition and favorite literature. She had some superfluous +income and much unoccupied time, which she devoted to promiscuous +visiting and the relief (or otherwise) of her poorer and busier +neighbors. Mr. Carnegie had refused to accept the plea of her good heart +in excuse of her bad practice, and had denounced her, in a moment of +extreme irritation, as a presumptuous and mischievous woman; and Miss +Wort had publicly rejoined that she would not call in Mr. Carnegie if +she were at death's door, because who could expect a blessing on the +remedies of a man who was not a professor of religion? The most cordial +terms they affected was an armed neutrality. The doctor was never free +from suspicion of Miss Wort. Though she looked scared and deprecating, +she did not shrink from responsibility, and would administer a dose of +her own prescribing in even critical cases, and pacify the doubts and +fears of her unlucky patient with tender assurances that if it did her +no good, it could do her no harm. Men she let alone, they were safe from +her: she did not pretend to know the queer intricacies of their insides; +also their aversion for physic she had found to be invincible.</p> + +<p>"Two of the pills ten minutes afore dinner-time, Miss Wort, ma'am, did +you say? It is not wrote so plain on the box as it might be," cried a +plaintive treble from the cottage door. The high hedge and a great bay +tree hid Mr. Carnegie from Mrs. Christie's view, but Miss Wort, +timorously aware of his observation, gave a guilty start, and shrieking +convulsively in the direction of the voice, "Yes, yes!" rushed to the +doctor's stirrup and burst into eager explanation:</p> + +<p>"It is only Trotter's strengthening pills, Mr. Carnegie. The basis of +them is iron—iron or steel. I feel positive that they will be of +service to Mrs. Christie, poor thing! with that dreadful sinking at her +stomach; for I have tried them myself on similar occasions. No, Mr. +Carnegie, a crust of bread would not be more to the purpose. A crust of +bread, indeed! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>Dr. Thomson of Edinburgh, the famous surgeon, has the +highest opinion of Trotter."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie's face was a picture of disgust. He would have felt himself +culpable if he had not delivered an emphatic protest against Miss Wort's +experiments. Mrs. Christie had come trembling to the gate—a +pretty-featured woman, but sallow as old parchment—and the doctor +addressed his expostulations to her. Many defeats had convinced him of +the futility of appealing to Miss Wort.</p> + +<p>"If you had not the digestion of an ostrich, Mrs. Christie, you would +have been killed long ago," said he with severe reprobation. "You have +devoured half a man's earnings, and spoilt as fine a constitution as a +woman need be blessed with, by your continual drugging."</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Carnegie, sir—with all respect to your judgment—I never had +no constitution worth naming where constitutions come," said Mrs. +Christie, deeply affronted. "That everybody's witness as knew me afore +ever I married into the Forest. And what has kept me up since, toiling +and moiling with a husband and boys, if the drugs hasn't? I hope I'm +thankful for the blessing that has been sent with them." Miss Wort +purred her approval of these pious sentences.</p> + +<p>"Some day you'll be in a hurry for an antidote, Mrs. Christie: that will +be the end of taking random advice."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, if so I be, my William is not the man to grudge me what's +called for. As you <i>are</i> here, Mr. Carnegie, I should wish to have an +understanding whether you mean to provide me with doctor's stuff; if +not, I'll look elsewhere. I've not heard that Mr. Robb sets his face +against drugs yet; which it stands to reason has a use, or God Almighty +wouldn't have given them."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie rode off with a curt rejoinder to Mrs. Christie that he +would not supply her foolish cravings, Robb or no Robb. Miss Wort was +sorry for his contempt of the divine bounties, and sought an explanation +in his conduct: "Poor fellow! he has not entered a church since Easter, +unless he walks over to Littlemire, which is not likely."</p> + +<p>"If he has not entered Mr. Wiley's church, I'm with him, and so is my +William," said Mrs. Christie with sudden energy. "I can't abide Mr. +Wiley. Oh, he's an arrogant man! It's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>but seldom he calls this way, and +I don't care if it was seldomer; for could he have spoken plainer if it +had been to a dog? 'You'd be worse if you ailed aught, Mrs. Christie,' +says he, and grins. I'd been giving him an account of the poor health I +enjoy. And my William heard him with his own ears when he all but named +Mr. Carnegie in the pulpit, and not to his credit; so he's in the right +of it to keep away. A kinder doctor there is not far nor near, for all +he has such an unaccountable prejudice against what he lives by."</p> + +<p>"But that is not Christian. We ought not to absent ourselves from the +holy ordinances because the clergyman happens to offend us. We ought to +bear patiently being told of our faults," urged Miss Wort, who on no +account would have allowed one of the common people to impugn the +spiritual authorities unrebuked: her own private judgment on doctrine +was another matter.</p> + +<p>"'Between him and thee,' yes," said Mrs. Christie, who on some points +was as sensitive and acute as a well-born woman. "But it is taking a +mean advantage of a man to talk at him when he can't answer; that's what +my William says. For if he spoke up for himself, they'd call it brawling +in church, and turn him out. He ain't liked, Miss Wort; you can't say he +is, to tell truth. Not many of the gentlemen does attend church, except +them as goes for the look o' the thing, like the old admiral and a few +more."</p> + +<p>Miss Wort groaned audibly, then cheered up, and with a gush of feeling +assured her humble friend that it would not be so in a better world; +<i>there</i> all would be love and perfect harmony. And so she went on her +farther way. Mr. Carnegie and Bessie Fairfax, riding slowly, were still +in sight. The next visit Miss Wort had proposed to pay was to a scene of +genuine distress, and she saw with regret that the doctor would +forestall her. He dismounted and entered a cottage by the roadside, and +when she reached it the door was shut, Brownie's bridle hung on the +paling, and Bessie was letting Miss Hoyden crop the sweet grass on the +bank while she waited. Miss Wort determined to stay for the doctor's +exit; she had remedies in her pocket for this case also.</p> + +<p>Within the cottage there was a good-looking, motherly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>woman, and a +large-framed young man of nineteen or twenty who sat beside the fire +with a ghastly face, and hands hanging down in dark despondency. He had +the aspect of one rising from a terrible illness; in fact, he had just +come out of prison after a month's hard labor.</p> + +<p>"It is his mind that's worst hurt, sir," said his mother, lifting her +eyes full of tears to Mr. Carnegie's kind face. "But he has a sore pain +in his chest, too, that he never used to have."</p> + +<p>"Stand up, Tom, and let me have a look at you," said the doctor, and Tom +stood up, grim as death, starved, shamed, unutterably miserable.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wiley's been in, but all he had to say was as he hoped Tom would +keep straight now, since he'd found out by unhappy experience as the way +of transgressors is hard," the poor woman told her visitor, breaking +into a sob as she spoke.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie considered the lad, and told him to sit down again, then +turned to the window. His eye lit on Miss Wort Standing outside with +downcast face, and hands as if she were praying. He tapped on the glass, +and as she rushed to the door he met her with a flag of truce in the +form of a requisition for aid.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wort, I know you are a liberal soul, and here is a case where you +can do some real good, if you will be guided," he said firmly. "I was +going to appeal to Lady Latimer, but I have put so much on her +ladyship's kindness lately—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Carnegie! I have a right to help here," interrupted Miss Wort. +"A <i>right</i>, for poor Tom was years and years in my Sunday-school class; +so he can't be very bad! Didn't Admiral Parkins and the other +magistrates say that they would rather send his master to prison than +him, if they had the power?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but he has done his prison now, and the pressing business is to +keep him from going altogether to the deuce. I want him to have a good +meal of meat three or four times a week, and light garden-work—all he +is fit for now. And then we shall see what next."</p> + +<p>"I wo'ant list and I wo'ant emigrate; I'll stop where I am and live it +down," announced Tom doggedly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>"Yes, yes, that is what I should expect of you, Tom," said Miss Wort. +"Then you will recover everybody's good opinion."</p> + +<p>"I don't heed folks' opinions, good or bad. I know what I know."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, get your cap, and come home to dinner with me; it is roast +mutton," said Miss Wort, as if pleading with a fractious child.</p> + +<p>Tom rose heavily, took his cap, and followed her out. Mr. Carnegie +watched them as they turned down a back lane to the village, the lathy +figure of the lad towering by the head and shoulders above the poke +bonnet and drab cloak of Miss Wort. He was talking with much violent +gesture of arm and fist, and she was silent. But she was not ruminating +physic.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wort is like one of the old saints—she is not ashamed in any +company," said Bessie Fairfax.</p> + +<p>"If justice were satisfied with good intentions, Miss Wort would be a +blameless woman," said her father.</p> + +<p>A few minutes more brought the ride to an end at the doctor's door. And +there was a messenger waiting for him with a peremptory call to a +distance. It was a very rare chance indeed that he had a whole holiday. +His reputation for skill stood high in the Forest, and his practice was +extensive in proportion. But he had health, strength, and the heart for +it; and in fact it was his prosperity that bore half the burden of his +toils.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h3><i>GREAT-ASH FORD.</i></h3> + +<p>A week elapsed. Lady Latimer called twice on Mrs. Carnegie to offer +counsel and countenance to Bessie Fairfax. The news that she was going +to leave the doctor's house for a rise in the world spread through the +village. Mrs. Wiley and Miss Buff called with the same benevolent +intentions as my lady. Mrs. Carnegie felt this oppressive, but tried to +believe that it was kind; Bessie grew impatient, and wished <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>she could +be let alone. Mr. Phipps laughed at her, and asked if she did not enjoy +her novel importance. Bessie rejoined with a scorny "No, indeed!" Mr. +Phipps retaliated with a grimace of incredulity.</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short's letter had been acknowledged, but it did not get itself +answered. Mr. Carnegie said, and said again, that there was no hurry +about it. In fact, he could not bear to look the loss of Bessie in the +face. He took her out to ride with him twice in that seven days, and +when his wife meekly urged that the affair must go on and be finished, +he replied that as Kirkham had done without Bessie for fourteen years, +it might well sustain her absence a little longer. Kirkham, however, +having determined that it was its duty to reclaim Bessie, was moved to +be imperious. As Mr. Fairfax heard nothing from his lawyer, he went into +Norminster to bid him press the thing on. Mr. John Short pleaded to give +the Carnegies longer law, and when Mr. Fairfax refused to see any +grounds for it, he suggested a visit to Beechhurst as more appropriate +than another letter.</p> + +<p>"Who is to go? You or I?" asked the squire testily.</p> + +<p>"Both, if you like. But you would do best to go alone, to see the little +girl and the good people who have taken care of her, and to let the +whole matter be transacted on a friendly footing."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax shrank from the awkwardness of the task, from the +humiliation of it, and said, "Could not Short manage it by post, without +a personal encounter?" Mr. Short thought not. Finally, it was agreed +that if another week elapsed without bringing the promised answer from +Mrs. Carnegie, they would go to Beechhurst together and settle the +matter on the spot.</p> + +<p>The doctor's procrastination stole the second seven days as it had +stolen the first.</p> + +<p>"Those people mean to make us some difficulty," said Mr. Fairfax with +secret irritation.</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short gave no encouragement to this suspicion; instead, he +urged the visit to Beechhurst. "We need not give more than three days to +it—one to go, one to stay, one to return," said he.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax objected that he disliked travelling in a fuss. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>The lawyer +could return when their business was accomplished; as for himself, being +in the Forest, he should make a tour of it, the weather favoring. And +thus the journey was settled.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>There was not a lovelier spot within children's foot-range of Beechhurst +than Great-Ash Ford. On a glowing midsummer day it was a perfect +paradise for idlers. Not far off, yet half buried out of sight amongst +its fruit trees, was a farmhouse thatched with reeds, very old, and +weather-stained of all golden, brown, and orange tints. A row of silver +firs was in the rear, and a sweep of the softest velvety sward stretched +from its narrow domain to the river. To watch the cattle come from the +farther pastures in single file across the shallow water at milking-time +was as pretty a bit of pastoral as could be seen in all the Forest.</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax loved this spot with a peculiar affection. Beyond the +ford went a footpath, skirting the river, to the village of Brook, where +young Musgrave lived—a footpath overshadowed by such giant fir trees, +such beeches and vast oaks as are nowhere else in England. The Great Ash +was a storm-riven fragment, but its fame continued, and its beauty in +sufficient picturesqueness for artistic purposes. Many a painter had +made the old russet farmhouse his summer lodging; and one was sketching +now where the water had dried in its pebbly bed, and the adventurous +little bare feet of Jack and Willie Carnegie were tempting an imaginary +peril in quest of the lily which still whitened the stream under the +bank.</p> + +<p>It was not often that Bessie, with the children alone, wandered so far +afield. But the day had beguiled them, and a furtive hope that Harry +Musgrave might be coming to Beechhurst that way had given Bessie +courage. He had not been met, however, when it was time to turn their +faces towards home. The boys had their forest pony, and mounted him by +turns. It was Tom's turn now, and Bessie was leading Jerry, and carrying +the socks and boots of the other two in the skirt of her frock, gathered +up in one hand. She was a little subdued, a little downcast, it might be +with fatigue and the sultry air, or it might be with her present +disappointment; but beyond and above all wearied sensations was the jar +of unsettledness that had come into her life, and perplexed and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>confused all its sweet simplicities. She made no haste, but lingered, +and let the children linger as they pleased.</p> + +<p>The path by the river was not properly a bridle-path, but tourists for +pleasure often lost their way in the forest, and emerged upon the roads +unexpectedly from such delicious, devious solitudes. Thus it befell +to-day when two gentlemen on horseback overtook Bessie, where she had +halted with Tom and the pony to let Jack and Willie come up. They were +drying their pink toes preparatory to putting on again their shoes and +stockings as the strangers rode by.</p> + +<p>"Is this the way to Beechhurst, my little gypsy?" quoth the elder of the +two, drawing rein for a moment.</p> + +<p>Bessie looked up with a sunburnt face under her loose fair hair. "Yes, +sir," said she. Then a sudden intelligence gleamed in her eyes, her +cheeks blazed more hotly, and she thought to herself, "It is my +grandfather!"</p> + +<p>The gentlemen proceeded some hundred paces in silence, and then the one +whom Bessie suspected as her grandfather said to the other, "Short, that +is the girl herself! She has the true Fairfax face as it is painted in a +score of our old portraits."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are right, sir. Let us be certain—let us ask her name," +proposed the lawyer.</p> + +<p>Bessie's little troop were now ready to march, and they set off at a +run, heedless of her cry to stop a while behind the riders, "Else we +shall be in the dust of their heels," she said. Lingering would not have +saved her, however; for the strangers were evidently purposed to wait +until she came up. Jack was now taking his turn on Jerry, and Jerry with +his head towards his stable wanted no leading or encouraging to go. He +was soon up with the gentlemen and in advance of them. Next Tom and +Willie trotted by and stood, hand-in-hand, gazing at the horses. +Bessie's feet lagged as if leaden weights were tied to them, and her +conscious air as she glanced in the face of the stranger who had +addressed her before set at rest any remaining doubt of who she was.</p> + +<p>"Are you Elizabeth Fairfax who lives with Mrs. Carnegie?" he asked in an +abrupt voice—the more abrupt and loud for a certain nervousness and +agitation that arose in him at the sight of the child.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>"Yes, sir, I am," replied Bessie, like a veritable echo of himself.</p> + +<p>"Then, as we are travelling the same road, you will be our guide, eh?"</p> + +<p>"The children are little; they cannot keep pace with men on horseback," +said Bessie. They were a mile and a half from Beechhurst yet. Mr. John +Short spoke hastily in an endeavor to promote an understanding, and +blundered worse than his client: his suggestion was that they might each +take up one of the bairns; but the expression of Bessie's eyes was a +reminder that she might not please to trudge at their bridle, though the +little and weak ones were to be carried.</p> + +<p>"You are considering who is to take you up?" hazarded Mr. Fairfax.</p> + +<p>Bessie recovered her countenance and said, as she would have said to any +other strangers on horseback who might have invited her to be their +guide on foot, "You cannot miss the way. It lies straight before you for +nearly a mile over the heath; then you will come to cross-roads and a +guide-post. You will be at Beechhurst long before we shall."</p> + +<p>The gentlemen accepted their dismissal and rode on. Was Bessie mollified +at all by the mechanical courtesy with which their hats were lifted at +their departure? They recognized, then, that she was not the little +gypsy they had hailed her. It did not enter into her imagination that +they had recognized also the true Fairfax face under her dishevelled +holiday locks, though she was persuaded that the one who had asked her +name was her wicked grandfather: that her grandfather was a wicked man +Bessie had quite made up her mind. Mr. John Short admired her behavior. +It did not chafe his dignity or alarm him for the peace of his future +life. But Mr. Fairfax was not a man of humor; he saw no fun whatever in +his prospects with that intrepid child, who had evidently inherited not +the Fairfax face only, but the warm Fairfax temper.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose that she guessed who we are?" he asked his man of law.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but she did not add to that the probability that we knew that she +guessed it, though she looks quick enough."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was not flattered: "I don't love a quick <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>woman. A quick +woman is always self-willed and wanting in feminine sweetness."</p> + +<p>"There was never a Fairfax yet, man or woman, of mean understanding," +said the lawyer. "Since the little girl has the family features, the +chances are that she has the family brains, and no lack of wit and +spirit."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax groaned. He held the not uncommon opinion that wit and +spirit endanger a man's peace and rule in a house. And yet in the case +of his son Laurence's Xantippe he had evidence enough that nothing in +nature is so discordant and intractable as a fool. Then he fell into a +silence, and turned his horse off the highway upon the margin of sward +at one side of it. Mr. John Short took the other; and so Bessie and the +boys soon lost sight of them.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful forest-road when they had crossed the heath. No +hedges shut it in, but here and there the great beech trees stood in +clumps or in single grace, and green rides opened vistas into cool +depths of shade which had never changed but with the seasons for many +ages. It was quite old-world scenery here. Neither clearings nor +enclosures had been thought of, and the wild sylvan beauty had all its +own perfect way. Presently there were signs of habitation. A curl of +smoke from a low roof so lost in its orchard that but for that domestic +flag it might have escaped observation altogether; a triangular green +with a pond, geese and pigs; more thatched cottages, gardens, small +fields, large hedges, high, bushy, unpruned; hedgerow trees; a lonely +little chapel in a burial-ground, a woodyard, a wheelwright's shop, a +guide-post pointing three ways, a blacksmith's forge at one side of the +road, and an old inn opposite; cows, unkempt children; white gates, +gravelled drives, chimney-pots of gentility, hidden away in bowers of +foliage. Then a glimpse of the church-tower, a sweep in the road; the +church and crowded churchyard, the rectory, the doctor's house, and a +stone's throw off the "King's Arms" at the top of the town-street, which +sloped gently all down hill. Another forge, tiled houses, shops with +queer bow-windows and steps up to the half-glazed doors, where a bell +rang when the latch was lifted. More white gates, more well-kept +shrubberies; green lanes, roads branching, curving to right and left; +and everywhere those open <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>spaces of lawn and magnificent beech trees, +as if the old town had an unlimited forest-right to scatter its +dwellings far and wide, just as caprice or the love of beauty might +dictate.</p> + +<p>"This is very lovely—it is a series of delightful pictures. Only to +live here must be a sort of education," said Mr. Fairfax as they arrived +within view of the ancient church and its precincts.</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short saw and smelt opportunities of improvement, but he agreed +that Beechhurst for picturesqueness was most desirable. Every cottage +had its garden, and every garden was ablaze with flowers. Flowers love +that moist sun and soil, and thrive joyfully. Gayest of the gay within +its trim holly hedge was the Carnegies. The scent of roses and +mignonette suffused the warm air of evening. The doctor was going about +with a watering-pot, tending his beauties and favorites, while he +watched for the children coming home. His name and profession, set forth +on a bright brass plate, adorned the gate, from which a straight +box-edged path led to the white steps of the porch. The stable entrance +was at the side. Everything about the place had an air of well-doing and +of means enough; and the doctor himself, whom the strangers eyed +observantly from the height of their saddles, looked like his own master +in all the independence of easy circumstances.</p> + +<p>Visitors to the Forest were too numerous in summer to attract notice. +Mr. Carnegie lifted his head for a moment, and then continued his +assiduities to a lovely old yellow rose which had manifested delicate +symptoms earlier in the season. Next to his wife and children the doctor +was fond of roses. The travellers rode past to the door of the "King's +Arms," and there dismounted. Half an hour after they were dining in an +up-stairs, bow-windowed room which commanded a cheerful prospect up and +down the village street, with a view of the church opposite and a side +glance of Mr. Carnegie's premises. They witnessed the return of Bessie +and the boys, and the fatherly help and reception they had. They saw the +doctor lift up Bessie's face to look at her, saw him pat her on the +shoulder encouragingly as she made him some brief communication, saw him +open the door and send her into the house, and then hurry round to the +stable to prevent the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>boys lingering while Jerry was rubbed down. He +had leisure and the heart, it seemed, for all such offices of kindness, +and his voice was the signal of instant obedience.</p> + +<p>Later in the evening they were all out in the garden—Mrs. Carnegie too. +One by one the children were dismissed to bed, and when only Bessie was +left, the doctor filled his pipe and had a smoke, walking to and fro +under the hedge, over which he conversed at intervals with passing +neighbors. His wife and Bessie sat in the porch. The only thing in all +this that Mr. Fairfax could except to was the doctor's clay pipe. He +denounced smoking as a low, pernicious habit; the lawyer, more tolerant, +remarked that it was an increasing habit and good for the revenue, but +bad for him: he believed that many a quarrel that might have ripened +into a lawsuit had prematurely collapsed in the philosophy that comes of +tobacco-smoke.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would prepare me with equanimity to meet my adversary," said +Mr. Fairfax.</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short had not intended to give the conversation this turn. He +feared that his client was working himself into an unreasonable humor, +in which he would be ready to transfer to Mr. Carnegie the reproaches +that were due only to himself. He was of a suspicious temper, and had +already insinuated that the people who had kept his grandchild must have +done it from interested and ulterior motives. The lawyer could not see +this, but he did see that if Mr. Fairfax was bent on making a contest of +what might be amicably arranged, no power on earth could hinder him. For +though it proverbially takes two to make a quarrel, the doctor did not +look as if he would disappoint a man of sharp contention if he sought +it. The soft word that turns away anger would not be of his speaking.</p> + +<p>"It will be through sheer mismanagement if there arise a hitch," Mr. +John Short said. "You desire to obtain possession of the child—then you +must go quietly about it. She is of an age to speak for herself, and our +long neglect may well have forfeited our claim. She is not your +immediate successor; there are infinite possibilities in the lives of +your two sons. If the case were dragged before the courts, she might be +given her choice where she would live; and if she has a heart she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>would +stay at Beechhurst, with her father's widow—and we are baulked."</p> + +<p>"What right has a woman to call herself a man's widow when she has +married again?" objected Mr. Fairfax.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Carnegie's acknowledgment of our letter was courteous: we are on +the safe side yet," said the lawyer smoothly. "Suppose I continue the +negotiation by seeking an interview with her to-morrow morning?"</p> + +<p>"Have your own way. I am of no use, it seems. I wish I had stayed at +Abbotsmead and had let you come alone."</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short echoed the wish with all his heart, though he did not +give his thoughts tongue. He began to conjecture that some new aspect of +the affair had been presented to his client's mind by the encounter with +Elizabeth in the Forest. And he was right. The old squire had conceived +for her a sort of paradoxical love at first sight, and was become +suddenly jealous of all who had an established hold on her affections. +Here was the seed of an unforeseen complication, which was almost sure +to become inimical to Bessie's happiness when he obtained the guidance +of her life.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Carnegie's pipe was out the sunset was past and the evening +dews were falling. Nine had struck by the kitchen clock, supper was on +the table, and the lamp was shedding its light through the open window.</p> + +<p>"Come in, mother, come in, Bessie," said the doctor. "And, Bessie, let +us hear over again what was your adventure this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>Bessie sat down before her cup of new milk and slice of brown bread, and +told her simple tale a second time. It had been rather pooh-poohed the +first, but it had made an impression. Said Mr. Carnegie: "And you jumped +to the conclusion that this gentleman unknown was your grandfather, even +before he asked your name? Now to describe him."</p> + +<p>"He came from Hampton, because he rode Jefferson's old gray mare, and +the other rode the brown horse with white socks. He is a little like +Admiral Parkins—neither fat nor thin. He has white hair and a red and +brown color. He looks stern and as proud as Lucifer" (Mrs. Carnegie gave +Bessie a reproving glance), "and his voice sounds as if he were. Perhaps +he <i>could</i> be kind—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>"You don't flatter him in his portrait, Bessie. Apparently you did not +take to him?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I don't believe we shall ever be friends."</p> + +<p>"Bessie dear, you must not set your mind against Mr. Fairfax," +interposed her mother. "Don't encourage her in her nonsense and +prejudice, Thomas; they'll only go against her."</p> + +<p>"Now for your grandfather's companion, Bessie: what was he like?"</p> + +<p>"I did not notice. He was like everybody else—like Mr. Judson at the +Hampton Bank."</p> + +<p>"That would be our correspondent, the lawyer, Mr. John Short of +Norminster."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie dropt the subject after this. His wife launched at him a +deprecating look, as much as to say, Would there not be vexation enough +for them all, without encouraging Bessie to revolt against lawful +authority? The doctor, who was guided more than he knew, thereupon held +his peace.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<h3><i>AGAINST HER INCLINATION.</i></h3> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was not a man of sentimental recollections. Nevertheless, it +did occur to him, as the twilight deepened, that somewhere in the +encumbered churchyard that he was looking down upon lay his son Geoffry +and Geoffry's first wife, Elizabeth. He felt a very lonely old man as he +thought of it. None of his sons' marriages were to boast of, but +Geoffry's, as it turned out, was the least unfortunate of any—Geoffry's +marriage with Elizabeth Bulmer, that is. If he had not approved of that +lady, he had tolerated her—pity that he had not tolerated her a little +more! The Forest climate had not suited the robust young Woldshire folk. +Once Geoffry had appealed to his father to help him to change his +benefice, but had experienced a harsh refusal. This was after Elizabeth +had suffered from an attack of rheumatism and ague, when she longed to +escape from the lovely, damp screens of the Forest to fresh Wold +breezes. She died, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>Geoffry took another wife. Then he died of what +was called in the district marsh-fever. Mr. Fairfax was not impervious +to regret, but no regret would bring them to life again.</p> + +<p>The next morning, while the dew was on the grass, he made his way into +the churchyard, and sought about for Geoffry's grave. He discovered it +in a corner, marked by a plain headstone and shaded by an elder bush. It +was the stone Geoffry had raised in memory of his Elizabeth, and below +her name his was inscribed, with the date of his death. The churchyard +was all neatly kept—this grave not more neatly than the others. Mrs. +Carnegie's affections had flowed into other channels, and Bessie had no +turn for meditation amongst the tombs. Mr. Fairfax felt rather more +forlorn after he had seen his son's last home than before, and might +have sunk into a fit of melancholy but for the diversion of his mind to +present matters. Just across the road Mr. Carnegie was mounting his +horse for his morning ride to the union workhouse, and Bessie was at the +gate seeing him off.</p> + +<p>The little girl was not at all tired, flushed, or abstracted now. She +was cheerful as a lark, fresh, fair, rosy—more like a Fairfax than +ever. But when she caught sight of her grandfather over the churchyard +wall, she put on her grave airs and mentioned the fact to Mr. Carnegie. +Mr. John Short had written already to bespeak an interview with Bessie's +guardian, and to announce the arrival of Mr. Fairfax at the "King's +Arms." But at the same moment had come an imperative summons from the +workhouse, and Mr. Carnegie was not the doctor to neglect a sick poor +man for any business with a rich one that could wait. He had bidden his +wife receive the lawyer, and was leaving her to appoint the time when +Bessie directed his attention to her grandfather. With a sudden movement +he turned his horse, touched his hat with his whip-handle, and said, +"Sir, are you Mr. Fairfax?" The stranger assented. "Then here is our +Bessie, your granddaughter, ready to make your acquaintance. My wife +will see your agent. As for myself, I have an errand elsewhere this +morning." With that, and a reassuring nod to Bessie, the doctor started +off at a hard trot, and the two, thus summarily introduced, stood +confronting one another with a wall, the road, and a gate between them. +There was an absurdity <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>in the situation that Bessie felt very keenly, +and blushes, mirth, and vexation flowed over her tell-tale visage as she +waited holding the gate, willing to obey if her grandfather called her, +or to stay till he came.</p> + +<p>By a singular coincidence, while they were at a halt what to do or say, +Lady Latimer advanced up the village street, having walked a mile from +her house at Fairfield since breakfast. She was an early riser and a +great walker: her life must have been half as long again as the lives of +most ladies from the little portion of it she devoted to rest. She was +come to Beechhurst now on some business of school, or church, or parish, +which she assumed would, unless by her efforts, soon be at a deadlock. +But years will tell on the most vigorous frames, and my lady looked so +jaded that, if she had fallen in with Mr. Carnegie, he would have +reminded her, for her health's sake, that no woman is indispensable. She +gave Bessie that sweet smile which was flattering as a caress, and was +about to pass on when something wistful in the child's eyes arrested her +notice. She stopped and asked if there was any more news from Woldshire. +Bessie's round cheeks were two roses as she replied that her grandfather +Fairfax had come—that he was <i>there</i> at the very moment, watching them +from the churchyard.</p> + +<p>"Where?" said my lady, and turned about to see.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax knew her. He descended the steps, came out at the lych-gate, +and met her. At that instant the cast of his countenance reminded Bessie +of her cynical friend Mr. Phipps, and a thought crossed her mind that if +Lady Latimer had not recognized her grandfather and made a movement to +speak, he would not have challenged her. It would have seemed a very +remote period to Bessie, but it did not seem so utterly out of date to +themselves, that Richard Fairfax in his adolescence had almost run mad +for love of my lady in her teens. She had not reciprocated his passion, +and in a fit of desperation he had married his wife, the mother of his +three sons. Perhaps the cool affection he had borne them all his life +was the measure of his indifference to that poor lady, and that +indifference the measure of his vindictive constancy to his first idol. +They had not seen each other for many years; their courses had run far +apart, and they had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>grown old. But a woman never quite forgets to feel +interested in a man who has once worshipped her, though he may long +since have got up off his knees and gone and paid his devotions at other +shrines. Lady Latimer had not been so blessed in her life and affections +that she could afford to throw away even a flattering memory. Bessie's +talk of her grandfather had brought the former things to her mind. Her +face kindled at the sight of her friend, and her voice was the soul of +kindness. Mr. Fairfax looked up and pitied her, and lost his likeness to +Mr. Phipps. Ambitious, greedy of power, of rank, and riches—thus and +thus had he once contemned her; but there was that fascinating smile, +and so she would charm him if they met some day in Hades.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>Bessie went in-doors to apprise her mother of the visitors who were at +hand. Mr. Fairfax and Lady Latimer stood for a quarter of an hour or +longer in the shade of the churchyard trees, exchanging news, the chief +news being the squire's business at Beechhurst. Lady Latimer offered him +her advice and countenance for his granddaughter, and assured him that +Bessie had fine qualities, much simplicity, and the promise of beauty. +Meanwhile Mrs. Carnegie, forewarned of the impending interview, +collected herself and prepared for it. She sent Bessie into the +rarely-used drawing-room to pull up the blinds and open the glass door +upon the lawn; and, further to occupy the nervous moments, bade her +gather a few roses for the china bowl on the round table. Bessie had +just finished her task, and was standing with a lovely Devoniensis in +her hand, when her grandfather appeared, supported by Lady Latimer.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was received by Mrs. Carnegie with courtesy, but without +effusion. It was the anxious desire of her heart that no ill-will should +arise because of Bessie's restoration. She was one of those unaffected, +reasonable, calm women whom circumstances rarely disconcert. Then her +imagination was not active. She did not pensively reflect that here was +her once father-in-law, but she felt comfortable in the consciousness +that Bessie had on a nice clean pink gingham frock and a crimped frill +round her white throat, in which she looked as pretty as she could look. +Bessie's light hair, threaded with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>gold, all crisp and wavy, and her +pure bright complexion, gave her an air of health and freshness not to +be surpassed. Her beauty was not too imposing—it was of everyday; and +though her wicked grandfather seemed to frown at her with his bushy gray +brows, and to search her through with his cold keen eyes, he was not +displeased by her appearance. He was gratified that she took after his +family. Bessie's expression as she regarded him again made him think of +that characteristic signature of her royal namesake, "Yours, as you +demean yourself, <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>," and he framed a resolution to +demean himself with all the humility and discretion at his command. He +experienced an impulse of affection towards her stronger than anything +he had ever felt for his sons: perhaps he discerned in her a more +absolute strain of himself. His sons had all taken after their mother.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie's reception propitiated Mr. Fairfax still further. She +said a few words in extenuation of the delay there had been in replying +to his communication through Mr. John Short; and he was able to reply, +even sincerely, that he was glad it had occurred, since it had +occasioned his coming to the Forest. Bessie reddened; she had an almost +irresistible desire to say something gruff—she abominated these +compliments. She was vexed that Lady Latimer should be their witness, +and bent her brows fiercely. My lady did not understand the signs of her +temper. She was only amused by the flash of that harmless fire, and +serenely interposed to soothe and encourage the little girl. Oh, if she +could have guessed how she was offending!</p> + +<p>"Can you spare Bessie for a few hours, Mrs. Carnegie? If you can, I will +carry her off to luncheon at Fairfield. Mr. Fairfax, whom I knew when I +was not much more than her age, will perhaps come too?" said my lady, +and Mr. Fairfax assented.</p> + +<p>But tears rushed to Bessie's eyes, and she would have uttered a most +decisive "No," had not Mrs. Carnegie promptly answered for her that it +was a nice plan. "Your dress is quite sufficient, Bessie," added my +lady, and she was sent up stairs to put on her hat. Did she stamp her +angry little foot as she obeyed? Probably. And she cried, for to go to +Fairfield thus was horribly against her inclination. Nevertheless, half +an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>hour later, when my lady had transacted the business that brought +her to Beechhurst so opportunely, Bessie found herself walking gently +along the road at her side, and on her other hand her wicked +grandfather, chatting of a variety of past events in as disengaged and +pleasant a fashion as an old gentleman of sixty-five, fallen +unexpectedly into the company of an old friend, could do. As Bessie +cooled down, she listened and began to speculate whether he might +possibly be not so altogether wicked as his recent misbehavior had led +her to conclude; then she began to think better things of him in a +general way, but unfortunately it did not occur to her that he might +possibly have conceived a liking to herself. Love, that best solvent of +difficulties, was astray between them from the beginning.</p> + +<p>Bessie was not invited to talk, but Lady Latimer gave her a kind glance +at intervals. Yet for all this encouragement her heart went pit-a-pat +when they came in sight of Fairfield; for about the gate was gathered a +group of young ladies—to Bessie's imagination at this epoch the most +formidable of created beings. There was one on horseback, a most +playful, sweet Margaret, who was my lady's niece; and another, a +dark-eyed, pretty thing, cuddling a brisk brown terrier—Dora and Dandy +they were; and a tall, graceful Scotch lassie, who ran to meet Lady +Latimer, and fondled up to her with the warmest affection; and two +little girls besides, sisters to Dora, very frank to make friends. Each +had some communication in haste for my lady, who, when she could get +leave to speak, introduced her niece to Mr. Fairfax, and recommended +Bessie to the attention of her contemporaries. Forthwith they were +polite. Dora offered Dandy to Bessie's notice; Margaret courted +admiration for Beauty; the others looked on with much benevolence, and +made cordial remarks and lively rejoinders. Bessie was too shy to enjoy +their affability; she felt awkward, and looked almost repulsively proud. +The younger ones gradually subsided. Margaret had often met Bessie +riding with Mr. Carnegie, and they knew each other to bow to. Bessie +patted Beauty's neck and commended her—a great step towards +friendliness with her mistress—and Margaret said enthusiastically, "Is +she not a darling? She shall have sugar, she shall! Oh, Aunt Olympia, +Beauty went <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>so well to-day!" Then to Bessie: "That is a handsome little +mare you ride: what a sharp trot you go at sometimes!"</p> + +<p>"It is my father's pace—we get over the ground fast. Miss Hoyden, she +is called—she is almost thoroughbred."</p> + +<p>"You ride, Elizabeth? That is a good hearing," said Mr. Fairfax. "You +shall have a Miss Hoyden at Abbotsmead."</p> + +<p>Bessie colored and turned her head for a moment, but said nothing. +Margaret whispered that <i>would</i> be nice. Poor Bessie's romance was now +known to the young ladies of the neighborhood, and she was more +interesting to them than she knew.</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer led the way with Mr. Fairfax up the drive overhung with +flowering trees and bushes. On the steps before the open hall-door stood +Mr. Wiley, whom my lady had bidden to call and stay to luncheon when his +pastoral visits brought him into the vicinity of Fairfield. He caught +sight of his young neighbor, Bessie Fairfax, and on the instant, with +that delicious absence of tact which characterized him, he asked +brusquely, "How came <i>you</i> here?" Bessie blushed furiously, and no one +answered—no one seemed to hear but herself; so Mr. Wiley added +confidentially, "It is promotion indeed to come to Fairfield. Keep +humble, Bessie."</p> + +<p>"Wait for me, Miss Fairfax," said Margaret as she dismounted. "Come to +my room." And Bessie went without a word, though her lips were laughing. +She was laughing at herself, at her incongruousness, at her trivial +mortifications. Margaret would set her at her ease, and Bessie learnt +that she had a rare charm in her hair, both from its color and the +manner of its growth. It was lovely, Margaret told her, and pressed its +crisp shining abundance with her hand delicately.</p> + +<p>"That is a comfort in adverse circumstances," said Bessie with a light +in her eyes. Then they ran down stairs to find the morning-room deserted +and all the company gone in to luncheon.</p> + +<p>The elders of the party were placed at a round table, a seat for Bessie +being reserved by Lady Latimer. Two others were empty, into one of which +dropt Margaret; the other was occupied by Mr. Bernard, the squire of the +next parish, to whom Margaret was engaged. Their marriage, in fact, was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>close at hand, and Beechhurst was already devising its rejoicings for +the wedding-day.</p> + +<p>The little girls were at a side-table, sociable and happy in under +tones. Bessie believed that she might have been happy too—at any rate, +not quite so miserable—if Mr. Wiley had not been there to lift his +brows and intimate surprise at the honor that was done her. She hated +her exaltation. She quoted inwardly, "They that are low need fear no +fall," and trembled for what he might be moved to say next. There was a +terrible opportunity of silence, for at first nobody talked. A crab of +brobdignagian proportions engrossed the seniors. Bessie and the younger +ones had roast lamb without being asked what they would take, and +Bessie, all drawbacks notwithstanding, found herself capable of eating +her dinner. The stillness was intense for a few minutes. Bessie glanced +at one or two of the intent faces preparing crab with a close devotion +to the process that assured satisfaction in the result, and then she +caught Lady Latimer's eye. They both smiled, and suddenly the talk broke +out all round; my lady beginning to inquire of the rector concerning +young Musgrave of Brook, whether he knew him. Bessie listened with +breathless interest to this mention of her dear comrade.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know him, in a way—a clever youth, ambitious of a college +education," said Mr. Wiley. "I have tried my best to dissuade him, but +his mind is bent on rising in the world. Like little Christie, the +wheelwright's son, who must be an artist."</p> + +<p>"Why discourage young Musgrave? I heard from his father a few days ago +that he had won a scholarship at Hampton worth fifty pounds a year, +tenable for three years."</p> + +<p>"That is news, indeed! Moxon has coached him well: I sent him to poor +Moxon. He wanted to read with me, but—you understand—I could not +exactly receive him while Lord Rafferty and Mr. Duffer are in my house. +So I sent him to poor Moxon, who is glad of a pupil when he can get +one."</p> + +<p>"I wish Mr. Moxon better preferment. As for young Musgrave, he must have +talent. I was driving through Brook yesterday, and I called at the +manor-house. The mother is a modest person of much natural dignity. The +son was out. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>I left a message that I should be glad to see him, and do +something for him, if he would walk over to Fairfield."</p> + +<p>"He will not come, I warrant," exclaimed Mr. Wiley. "He is a radical +fellow, and would say, as soon as look at you, that he had no wish to be +encumbered with patronage."</p> + +<p>"He would not say so to Lady Latimer," cried Bessie Fairfax. Her voice +rang clear as a bell, and quite startled the composed, refined +atmosphere. Everybody looked at her with a smile. My lady exchanged a +glance with her niece.</p> + +<p>"Then young Musgrave is a friend of yours?" she said, addressing her +little guest.</p> + +<p>"We are cousins," was Bessie's unhesitating reply.</p> + +<p>"I was not aware of it," remarked her grandfather drily.</p> + +<p>Bessie was not daunted. Mrs. Musgrave was Mrs. Carnegie's elder sister. +Young Musgrave and the young Carnegies called cousins, and while she was +one of the Carnegies she was a cousin too. Besides, Harry Musgrave was +the nephew of her father's second wife, and their comradeship dated from +his visits to the rectory while her father was alive. She did not offer +explanations, but in her own mind she peremptorily refused to deny or +relinquish that cousinship. She went on eating in a dream of confusion, +very rosy as to the cheeks and very downcast as to the eyes, but not at +all ashamed. The little girls wondered with great amazement. Mr. Wiley +did not relish his rebuke, and eyed Bessie with anything but charity. +His bad genius set him expatiating further on the hazardous theme of +ambition in youths of low birth and mean estate, with allusions to Brook +and the wheelwright's shed that could not be misunderstood. Mr. Fairfax, +observing his granddaughter, felt uneasy. Lady Latimer generalized to +stop the subject. Suddenly said Bessie, flashing at the rector, and +quoting Mr. Carnegie, "You attribute to class what belongs to +character." Then, out of her own irrepressible indignation, she added, +"Harry Musgrave is as good a gentleman as you are, and little Christie +too, though he may be only a carpenter's son." (Which was not saying +much for them, as Mr. Phipps remarked when he was told the story.)</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer stood up and motioned to all the young people to come away. +They vanished in retiring, some one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>road, some another, and for the +next five minutes Bessie was left with my lady alone, angry and +exquisitely uncomfortable, but not half alive yet to the comic aspect of +her very original behavior. She glanced with shy deprecation in Lady +Latimer's face, and my lady smiled with a perfect sympathy in her +sensations.</p> + +<p>"You are not afraid to speak up for an absent friend, but silence is the +best answer to such impertinences," said she, and then went on to talk +of Abbotsmead and Kirkham till Bessie was almost cheated of her +distressing self-consciousness.</p> + +<p>Fairfield was a small house, but full of prettiness. Bessie Fairfax had +never seen anything so like a picture as the drawing-room, gay with +flowers, perfumed, airy, all graceful ease and negligent comfort. From a +wide-open glass door a flight of steps descended to the rose-garden, now +in its beauty. Paintings, mirrors decorated the walls; books strewed the +tables. There were a hundred things, elegant, grotesque, and useless, to +look at and admire. How vivid, varied, delicious life must be thus +adorned! Bessie thought, and lost herself a little while in wonder and +curiosity. Then she turned to Lady Latimer again. My lady had lost +herself in reverie too; her countenance had an expression of weary +restlessness and unsatisfied desire. No doubt she had her private cares. +Bessie felt afraid, as if she had unwittingly surprised a secret.</p> + +<p>Visitors were announced. The gentlemen came from the dining-room. Mr. +Bernard and Margaret appeared from the rose-garden. So did some of the +little girls, and invited Bessie down the steps. There was a general hum +of voices and polite laughter. More visitors, more conversation, more +effort. Bessie began to feel tired of the restraint, and looked up to +her grandfather, who stood in the doorway talking to Margaret. The next +minute he came to her, and said, with as much consideration as if she +were a grown-up person, "You have had enough of this, Elizabeth. It is +time we were returning to Beechhurst."</p> + +<p>Margaret understood. "You wish to go? Come, then; I will take you to my +room to put on your hat," said she.</p> + +<p>They escaped unnoticed except by Lady Latimer. She followed them for a +hasty minute, and began to say, "Margaret <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>I have been thinking that +Bessie Fairfax will do very well to take Winny's place as bridesmaid +next week, since Winny cannot possibly come."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no, no!" cried Bessie, clasping her hands in instant, pleading +alarm.</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed and bade her hush. "Nobody contradicts Aunt Olympia," +she said in a half whisper.</p> + +<p>"I will speak to Mr. Fairfax and arrange it at once," Lady Latimer +added, and disappeared to carry out her sudden intention.</p> + +<p>Bessie reiterated her prayer to be left alone. "You will do very well. +You are very nice," rejoined Margaret, not at all understanding her +objections. "White over blue and blue bonnets are the bridesmaids' +colors. My cousin Winny has caught the measles. Her dress will fit you, +but Aunt Olympia's maid will see to all that. You must not refuse me."</p> + +<p>When they went down stairs Bessie found that her grandfather had +accepted for her Lady Latimer's invitation, and that he had also +accepted for himself an invitation to the wedding. Nor yet were the +troubles of the day over.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to walk?" said Mr. Wiley, coming out into the hall. "Then +I shall have much pleasure in walking with you. Our roads are the same."</p> + +<p>Bessie's dismay was so evident as to be ludicrous. Mr. Wiley was either +very forgiving or very pachydermatous. Lady Latimer kissed her, and +whispered a warning "Take care!" and she made a sign of setting a watch +on her lips.</p> + +<p>"So you will not have to be a teacher, after all, Bessie?" the judicious +rector took occasion to say the moment they were clear of Fairfield. Mr. +Fairfax listened. Bessie felt hot and angry: what need was there to +inflict this on her grandfather? "Was it a dressmaker or a +school-mistress Lady Latimer last proposed to make of you? I forget," +said Mr. Wiley with an air of guileless consideration as he planted his +thorn.</p> + +<p>"I never heard that there was any idea of dressmaking: I am not fond of +my needle," said Bessie curtly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there was. Her ladyship spoke of it to Mrs. Wiley. We hoped that +you might be got into Madame Michaud's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>establishment at Hampton to +learn the business. She is first-class. My wife patronizes her."</p> + +<p>"I wish people would mind their own business."</p> + +<p>"There is no harm done. But the remembrance of what you have been saved +from should keep you meek and lowly in spirit, Bessie. I have been +grieved to-day, <i>deeply grieved</i>, to see that you already begin to feel +uplifted." Mr. Wiley dwelt in unctuous italics on his regret, and waved +his head slowly in token of his mournfulness. Bessie turned scarlet and +held her peace.</p> + +<p>"You must be very benevolent people here," said Mr. Fairfax +sarcastically. "Is Mr. Carnegie so poor and helpless a man that his kind +neighbors must interfere to direct his private affairs?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiley's eyes glittered as he replied, parrying the thrust and +returning it: "No, no, but he has a large and increasing family of his +own; and with little Bessie thrown entirely on his hands besides, +friends might well feel anxious how she was to be provided for—Lady +Latimer especially, who interests herself for all who are in need. Her +ladyship has a great notion that women should be independent."</p> + +<p>"My father is perfectly able and perfectly willing to do everything that +is necessary for his children. No one would dream of meddling with us +who knew him," cried Bessie impetuously. Her voice shook, she was so +annoyed that she was in tears. Mr. Fairfax took her hand, squeezed it +tight, and retained it as they walked on. She felt insulted for her +dear, good, generous father. She was almost sobbing as she continued in +his praise: "He has insured his life for us. I have heard him say that +we need never want unless by our own fault. And the little money that +was left for me when my real father died has never been touched: it was +put into the funds to save up and be a nest-egg for me when I marry."</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiley's teeth gleamed his appreciation of this <i>naïve</i> bit of +information. And even her grandfather could not forbear a smile, though +he was touched. "I am convinced that you have been in good hands, +Elizabeth," said he warmly. "It was not against Mr. Carnegie that any +neglect of natural duty was insinuated, but against me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>Bessie looked down and sighed. Mr. Wiley deprecated the charge of +casting blame anywhere. Mr. Fairfax brusquely turned the conversation to +matters not personal—to the forest-laws, the common-rights and +enclosure acts—and Bessie kept their pace, which quickened +imperceptibly, ruminating in silence her experiences of the day. +Mortification mingled with self-ridicule was uppermost. To be a +bridesmaid amongst the grand folks at Fairfield—could anything be more +absurdly afflicting? To be a seamstress at Madame Michaud's—the odious +idea of it! Poor Bessie, what a blessing to her was her gift of humor, +her gift for seeing the laughable side of things and people, and +especially the laughable side of herself and her trials!</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiley was shaken off on the outskirts of the village, where a +ragged, unkempt laborer met him, and insisted on exchanging civilities +and conventional objections to the weather. "We wants a shower, parson."</p> + +<p>"A shower! You're <i>wet</i> enough," growled Mr. Wiley with a gaze of severe +reprobation. "And you were drunk on Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Yes! I'se wet every day, and at my own expense, too," retorted the +delinquent with a grin.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax and Bessie walked on to the "King's Arms," and there for the +present said good-bye. Bessie ran home to tell her adventures, but on +the threshold she met a check in the shape of Jack, set to watch for her +return and tell her she was wanted. Mr. John Short was come, and was +with Mrs. Carnegie in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"I say, Bessie, you are not going away, are you?" asked the boy, laying +violent hands on her when he had acquitted himself of his message. +"Biddy says you are. I say you sha'n't."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie heard her son's unabashed voice in the hall, and opening +the door, she invited Bessie in.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<h3><i>HER FATE IS SEALED.</i></h3> + +<p>Mr. John Short rose as Miss Fairfax entered, and bowed to her with +deference. Bessie, being forbidden by her mother to retreat, sat down +with ostentatious resignation to bear what was to come. But her bravado +was not well enough grounded to sustain her long. The preliminaries were +already concluded when she arrived, and Mrs. Carnegie was giving +utterance to her usual regret that her dear little girl had not been +taught to speak French or play on the piano. Mr. Fairfax's +plenipotentiary looked grave. His own daughters were perfect in those +accomplishments—"Indispensable to the education of a finished +gentlewoman," he said.</p> + +<p>Thereupon Bessie, still in excited spirits, delivered her mind with +considerable force and freedom. "It is nonsense to talk of making me a +finished gentlewoman," she added: "I don't care to be anything but a +woman of sense."</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short answered her shrewdly: "There is no reason why you should +not be both, Miss Fairfax. A woman of sense considers the fitness of +things. And at Abbotsmead none but gentlewomen are at home."</p> + +<p>Bessie colored and was silent. "We have been proposing that you should +go to school for a year or two, dear," said Mrs. Carnegie persuasively. +Tears came into Bessie's eyes. The lawyer's letter had indeed mentioned +school, but she had not anticipated that the cruel suggestion would be +carried out.</p> + +<p>"Shall it be an English school or a school in France?" said Mr. Short, +taking the indulgent cue, to avoid offence and stave off resistance. But +his affectation of meekness was more provoking than his sarcasm. Bessie +fired up indignantly at such unworthy treatment.</p> + +<p>"You are deciding and settling everything without a word to my father. +How do you know that he will let me go away? I don't want to go," she +said.</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> settled, Bessie darling. <i>You have to go</i>—so don't get angry +about it," said Mrs. Carnegie with firmness. "You may have your choice +about a school at home or abroad, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>that is all. Now be good, and +consider which you would like best."</p> + +<p>Bessie's tears overflowed. "I hate girls!" she said with an asperity +that quite shamed her mother, "they are so silly." Mr. John Short with +difficulty forbore a smile. "And they don't like me!" she added with +gusty wrath. "I never get on with girls, never! I don't know what to say +to them. And when they find out that I can't speak French or play on the +piano, they will laugh at me." Her own countenance broke into a laugh as +she uttered the prediction, but she laughed with tears still in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>The lawyer nodded his head in a satisfied way. "It will all come right +in time," said he. "If you can make fun of the prospect of school, the +reality will not be very terrible to a young lady of your courageous +temper."</p> + +<p>Poor Bessie was grave again in an instant. She felt that she had let her +fate slip out of her hands. She could not now declare her refusal to go +to school at all; she could only choose what kind of school she would go +to. "If it must be one or another, let it be French," she said, and +rushed from the room in a tempestuous mood.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie excused her as very affectionate, and as tired and +overdone. She looked tired and overdone herself, and out of spirits as +well. Mr. John Short said a few sympathetic words, and volunteered a few +reasonable pledges for the future, and then took his leave—the kindest +thing he could do, since thus he set the mother at liberty to go and +comfort her child. Her idea of comforting and Bessie's idea of being +comforted consisted, for the nonce, in having a good cry together.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>When his agent came to explain to Mr. Fairfax how far he had carried his +negotiations for his granddaughter's removal from Beechhurst, the squire +demurred. The thorn which Mr. Wiley had planted in his conscience was +rankling sorely; his pride was wounded too—perhaps that was more hurt +even than his conscience—but he felt that he had much to make up to the +child, not for his long neglect only, but for the indignities that she +had been threatened with. She might have been apprenticed to a trade; he +might have had to negotiate with some shopkeeper to cancel her +indentures. He did not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>open his mind to Mr. John Short on this matter; +he kept it to himself, and made much more of it in his imagination than +it deserved. Bessie had already forgotten it, except as a part of the +odd medley that her life seemed coming to, and in the recollection it +never vexed her; but it was like a grain of sand in her grandfather's +eye whenever he reviewed the incidents of this time. He gathered from +the lawyer's account of the interview how little acceptable to Bessie +was the notion of being sent to school, and asked why she should not go +to Abbotsmead at once?</p> + +<p>"There is no reason why she should not go to Abbotsmead if you will have +a lady in the house—a governess," said Mr. John Short.</p> + +<p>"I will have no governess in the house; I suppose she is too young to be +alone?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. Mrs. Carnegie would not easily let her go unless in the +assurance that she will be taken care of. She has been a good deal +petted and spoiled. She is a fine character, but she would give you +nothing but trouble if you took her straight home."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer, with whom Mr. Fairfax held further counsel, expressed much +the same opinion. She approved of Elizabeth, but it was impossible to +deny that she had too much self-will, that she was too much of the +little mistress. She had been sovereign in the doctor's house; to fall +amongst her equals in age and seniors in school would be an excellent +discipline. Mr. Fairfax acquiesced, and two or three years was the term +of purgatory to which Bessie heard herself condemned. It was no use +crying. My lady encouraged her to anticipate that she would be very +tolerably happy at school. She was strong enough not to mind its +hardships; some girls suffered miserably from want of health, but she +had vigor and spirits to make the best of circumstances. Bessie was +flattered by this estimate of her pluck, but all the same she preferred +to avert her thoughts from the contemplation of the strange future that +was to begin in September. It was July now, and a respite was to be +given her until September.</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short—his business done—returned to Norminster, and Mr. +Fairfax and Mr. Carnegie met. They were extremely distant in their +behavior. Mr. Carnegie re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>fused to accept any compensation for the +charges Bessie had put him to, and made Mr. Fairfax wince at his +information that the child had earned her living twice over by her +helpfulness in his house. He did not mean to be unkind, but only to set +forth his dear little Bessie's virtues.</p> + +<p>"She will never need to go a-begging, Bessie won't," said he. "She can +turn her hand to most things in a family. She has capital sense, and a +warm heart for those who can win it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax bowed solemnly, as not appreciating this catalogue of homely +graces. The doctor looked very stern. He had subdued his mind to the +necessity, but he felt his loss in every fibre of his affections. No +one, except Bessie herself, half understood the sacrifice he was put +upon making, for he loved her as fondly as if she had been his very own; +and he knew that once divided from his household she never would be like +his own again. But her fate was settled, and the next event in her +experience seemed to set a seal upon it.</p> + +<p>The day Mr. John Short left the Forest, Beechhurst began to set up its +arches and twine its garlands for the wedding of Lady Latimer's niece. +Bessie made a frantic effort to escape from the bridesmaid's honors that +were thrust upon her, but met with no sympathy except from her father, +and even he did not come to her rescue. He bade her never mind, it would +soon be over. One sensible relief she had in the midst of her fantastic +distress: Harry Musgrave was away, and would not see her in her +preposterous borrowed plumes. He had gone with Mr. Moxon on a week's +excursion to Wells, and would not return until after the wedding. Bessie +was full of anxieties how her dear old comrade would treat her now. She +found some people more distant and respectful, she did not wish that +Harry should be more respectful—that would spoil their intercourse.</p> + +<p>Jolly Miss Buff was an immense help, stay, and comfort to her little +friend till through this perplexing ordeal. She was full of harmless +satire. She proposed to give Bessie lessons in manners, and to teach her +the court curtsey. She chuckled over her reluctance to obey commands to +tea at the rectory, and flattered her with a prediction that she would +enjoy the grand day of the wedding at Fairfield. "I know who the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>bridesmaids are, and you will be the prettiest of the bunch," she +assured her. "Don't distress yourself: a bridesmaid has nothing to do +but to look pretty and stand to be stared at. It will be better fun at +the children's feast than at the breakfast—a wedding breakfast is +always slow—but you will see a host of fine people, which is amusing, +and since Lady Latimer wishes it, what need you care? You are one of +them, and your grandfather will be with you."</p> + +<p>Before the day came Bessie had been wrought up to fancy that she should +almost enjoy her little dignity. Its garb became her well. The Carnegie +boys admired her excessively when she was dressed and set off to +Fairfield, all alone in her glory, in a carriage with a pair of gray +horses and a scarlet postilion; and when she walked into church, one of +a beautiful bevy of half a dozen girls in a foam of white muslin and +blue ribbons, Mrs. Carnegie was not quick enough to restrain Jack from +pointing a stumpy little finger at her and crying out, "There's our +Bessie!" Bessie with a blush and a smile the more rallied round the +bride, and then looked across the church at her mother with a merry, +happy face that was quite lovely.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax, who had joined the company at the church door, at this +moment directed towards her the notice of a gentleman who was standing +beside him. "That is Elizabeth—my little granddaughter," said he. The +gentleman thus addressed said, "Oh, indeed!" and observed her with an +air of interest.</p> + +<p>Then the solemnity began. There was a bishop to marry the happy couple +(Bessie supposed they were happy, though she saw the blossoms quiver on +the bride's head, and the bridegroom's hand shaking when he put the ring +on her finger), and it was soon done—very soon, considering that it was +to last for life. They drove back to Fairfield with a clamor of +bells—Beechhurst had a fine old peal—and a shrill cheering of children +along the roadside. Lady Latimer looked proud and delighted, and +everybody said she had made an excellent match for her charming niece.</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax was in the same carriage returning as the gentleman whose +attention had been called to her by her grandfather in the church. He +paid her the compliment of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>an attempt at conversation. He also sat by +her at the breakfast, and was kind and patronizing: her grandfather +informed her that he was a neighbor of his in Woldshire, Mr. Cecil +Burleigh. Bessie blushed, and made a slight acknowledgment with her +head, but had nothing to say. He was a very fine gentleman indeed, this +Mr. Cecil Burleigh—tall and straight, with a dark, handsome face and an +expression of ability and resolution. His age was seven-and-twenty, and +he had the appearance of an accomplished citizen of the world. Not to +make a mystery of him, <i>he</i> was the poor young gentleman of great +talents and great expectations of whom the heads of families had spoken +as a suitable person to marry Elizabeth Fairfax and to give the old +house of Abbotsmead a new lease of life. He was a good-natured person, +but he found Bessie rather heavy in hand; she was too young, she had no +small talk, she was shy of such a fine gentleman. They were better +amused, both of them, in the rose-garden afterward—Bessie with Dora and +Dandy, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh with Miss Julia Gardiner, the most +beautiful young lady, Bessie thought, that she had ever seen. She had a +first impression that they were lovers.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax had been entirely satisfied by his granddaughter's behavior +in her novel circumstances. Bessie was pretty and she was pleased. +Nothing was expected of her either to do or to say. She had a frank, +bright manner that was very taking, and a pleasant voice when she +allowed it to be heard. Lady Latimer found time to smile at her once or +twice, and to give her a kind, encouraging word, and when the guests +began to disperse she was told that she must stay for a little dance +there was to be in the evening amongst the young people in the house. +She stayed, and danced every dance with as joyous a vivacity as if it +had been Christmas in the long parlor at Brook and Harry Musgrave her +partner; and she confessed voluntarily to her mother and Mr. Phipps +afterward that she had been happy the whole day.</p> + +<p>"You see, dear Bessie, that I was right to insist upon your going," said +her mother.</p> + +<p>"And the kettles never once bumped the earthen pot—eh?" asked Mr. +Phipps mocking.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>"You forget," said Bessie, "I'm a little kettle myself now;" and she +laughed with the gayest assurance.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>BESSIE'S FRIENDS AT BROOK.</i></h3> + +<p>That respite till September was indeed worth much to Bessie. Her mind +was gently broken in to changes. Mr. Fairfax vanished from the scene, +and Lady Latimer appeared on it more frequently. My lady even took upon +her (out of the interest she felt in her old friend) to find a school +for Bessie, and found one at Caen which everybody seemed to agree would +do. The daughters of the Liberal member for Hampton were receiving their +education there, and Mrs. Wiley knew the school.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful season in the Forest—never more beautiful—and +Bessie rode with her father whenever he could go with her. Then young +Musgrave came back from Wells. Perhaps it is unnecessary to repeat that +Bessie was very fond of young Musgrave. It was quoted of her, when she +was a fat little trot of seven years old and he a big boy of twelve, +that she had cried herself to sleep because he had refused her a kiss, +being absorbed in some chemical experiment that smelt abominably when +her mother called her to bed. The denial was singularly unkind, and even +ungrateful that evening, because Bessie had not screamed when he +electrified her round, wee nose. She was still so tender at heart for +him that she would probably have cried now if he had roughed her. But +they were friends, the best of friends—as good as brother and sister. +Harry talked of himself incessantly; but what hero to her so +interesting? Not even his mother was so indulgent to his harmless +vanities as Bessie, or thought him so surely predestined to be one of +the great men of his day.</p> + +<p>It was early yet to say that Harry Musgrave was born under a lucky star, +but his friends did say it. He was of a most popular character, not too +wise or good to dispense with indulgence, or too modest to claim it. At +twelve he was a clumsy lad, bold, audacious, pleasant-humored, with a +high, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>curly, brown head, fine bright eyes, and no features to mention. +At twenty he had grown up into a tall, manly fellow, who meant to have +his share in the world if courage could capture it. Plenty of staying +power, his schoolmasters said he had, and it was the consciousness of +force in reserve that gave him much of his charm. Jealousy, envy, +emulation could find no place in him; he had been premature in nothing, +and still took his work at sober pace. He had a wonderful gift of +concentrativeness, and a memory to match. He loved learning for its own +sake far more than for the honor of excelling, and treated the favors of +fortune with such cool indifference that the seers said they were sure +some day to fall upon him in a shower. He had his pure enthusiasms and +lofty ambitions, as what young man of large heart and powerful intellect +has not? And he was now in the poetic era of life.</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax had speculated much and seriously beforehand how Harry +Musgrave would receive the news that she was going to be a lady. He +received it with most sovereign equanimity.</p> + +<p>"You always were a lady, and a very nice little lady, Bessie. I don't +think they can mend you," said he.</p> + +<p>The communication and flattering response were made at Brook, in the +sitting-room of the farm—a spacious, half-wainscoted room, with dark +polished floor, and a shabby old Persian carpet in the centre of it. A +very picture-like interior it was, with the afternoon sun pouring +through its vine-shaded open lattice, though time and weather-stains +were on the ceiling and pale-colored walls, and its scant furniture was +cumbrous, worn, and unbeautiful. The farm-house had been the manor once, +and was fast falling to pieces. Mr. Musgrave's landlord was an +impoverished man, but he could not sell a rood of his land, because his +heir was a cousin with whom he was at feud. It was a daily trial to Mrs. +Musgrave's orderly disposition that she had not a neat home about her, +but its large negligence suited her husband and son. This bare +sitting-room was Harry's own, and with the wild greenery outside was +warm, sweet, and fresh in hot summer weather, though a few damp days +filled it with odors of damp and decay. It was a cell in winter, but in +July a bower.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>And none the less a bower for those two young people in it this +afternoon. Mr. Carnegie had dropped Bessie at Brook in the morning, and +young Musgrave was to escort her home in the cool of the evening. His +mother and she had spent an hour together since the midday dinner, and +now the son of the house had called for her. They sat one on each side +of the long oak board which served young Musgrave for a study-table and +stood endwise towards the middle lattice. Harry had a new poem before +him, which he was tired of reading. The light and shadow played on both +their faces. There was a likeness for those who could see it—the same +frank courage in their countenances, the same turn for reverie in their +eyes. Harry felt lazy. The heat, the drowsy hum of bees in the +vine-blossoms, and the poetry-book combined, had made him languid. Then +he had bethought him of his comrade. Bessie came gladly, and poured out +in full recital the events that had happened to her of late. To these +she added the projects and anticipations of the future.</p> + +<p>"Dear little Bessie! she fancies she is on the eve of adventures. +Terribly monotonous adventures a girl's must be!" said the conceit of +masculine twenty.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had been a boy—it must be much better fun," was the whimsical +rejoinder of feminine fifteen.</p> + +<p>"And you should have been my chum," said young Musgrave.</p> + +<p>"That is just what I should have liked. Caen is nearer to Beechhurst +than it is to Woldshire, so I shall come home for my holidays. Perhaps I +shall never see you again, Harry, when I am transported to Woldshire." +This with a pathetic sigh.</p> + +<p>"Never is a long day. I shall find you out; and if I don't, you'll hear +of me. I mean to be heard of, Bessie."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, Harry, I am sure you will. Shall you write a book? Will it be a +play? They always seem to walk to London with a play in their pockets, a +tragedy that the theatres won't look at; and then their troubles begin."</p> + +<p>Young Musgrave smiled superior at Bessie's sentiment and Bessie's +syntax. "There is the railway, and Oxford is on the road. I intend +always to travel first-class," said he.</p> + +<p>Bessie understood him to speak literally. "First-class! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>Oh, but that is +too grand! In the <i>Lives</i> they never have much money. Some are awfully +poor—<i>starving</i>: Savage was, and Chatterton and Otway."</p> + +<p>"Shabby, disreputable vagabonds!" answered young Musgrave lightly.</p> + +<p>"And Samuel Johnson and ever so many more," continued Bessie, pleading +his sympathy.</p> + +<p>"There is no honor in misery; it is picturesque to read about, but it is +a sorry state in reality to be very poor. Some poets have been scamps. I +shall not start as the prodigal son, Bessie, for I love not swinish +company nor diet of husks."</p> + +<p>"The prodigal came home to his father, Harry."</p> + +<p>"So he did, but I have my doubts whether he stayed."</p> + +<p>There was a silence. Bessie had always believed in the prodigal as a +good son after his repentance. Any liberty of speculation as concerning +Scripture gave her pause; it was a new thing at Beechhurst and at Brook.</p> + +<p>Young Musgrave furled over the pages of his book. A sheet of paper, +written, interlined, blotted with erasures, flew out. He laid a quick +hand upon it; not so quick, however, but that Bessie had caught sight of +verses—verses of his own, too. She entreated him to read them. He +excused himself. "Do, Harry; please do," she urged, but he was +inexorable. He had read her many a fine composition before—many a poem +crowded with noble words and lofty sentiments; but for once he was +reserved, firm, secret. He told Bessie that she would not admire this +last effort of his muse: it was a parody, an imitation of the Greek.</p> + +<p>"Girls have no relish for humor: they don't understand it. It is sheer +profanity to them," said he. Let him show her his prize-books instead.</p> + +<p>Bessie was too humble towards Harry to be huffed. She admired the +prize-books, then changed the subject, and spoke of Lady Latimer, +inquiring if he had availed himself of her invitation yet to call at +Fairfield.</p> + +<p>"No," said he, "I have not called at Fairfield. What business can her +ladyship have with me? I don't understand her royal message. Little +Christie went to Fairfield with a portfolio of sketches in obedience to +a summons of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>that sort, and was bidden to sit down to dinner in the +servants' hall while the portfolio was carried up stairs. Her ladyship +bought a sketch, but the money was no salve for Christie's +mortification. I have nothing to sell. I took warning by my friend, and +did not go."</p> + +<p>Again Bessie was dumb. She blushed, and did not know what to say. She +would not have liked to hear that Harry had been set down to dinner in +the servants' hall at Fairfield, though she had not herself been hurt by +a present of a cheese-cake in the kitchen. She was perfectly aware that +the farmers and upper servants in the great houses did associate as +equals. Evidently the conduct of life required much discretion.</p> + +<p>Less than a year ago young Christie had helped at the painting and +graining of Lady Latimer's house. Somebody, a connoisseur in art, +wandering last autumn in the Forest, had found him making a drawing of +yew trees, had sought him in his home at the wheelwright's, had told him +he was a genius and would do wonders. On the instant young Christie +expected the greatest of all wonders to be done; he expected his friends +and neighbors to believe in him on the strength of the stranger's +prediction. Naturally, they preferred to reserve their judgment. He and +young Musgrave had learnt their letters under the same ferule, though +their paths had diverged since. Some faint reminiscence of companionship +survived in young Christie's memory, and in the absence of a generous +sympathy at home he went to seek it at Brook. A simple, strong +attachment was the result. Young Christie was gentle, vain, sensitive, +easily raised and easily depressed, a slim little fellow—a contrast to +Harry Musgrave in every way. "My friend" each called the other, and +their friendship was a pure joy and satisfaction to them both. Christie +carried everything to Brook—hopes, feelings, fears as well as +work—even his mortification at Fairfield, against a repetition of which +young Musgrave offered counsel, wisdom of the ancients.</p> + +<p>"It is art you are in pursuit of, not pomps and vanities? Then keep +clear of Fairfield. The first thing for success in imaginative work is a +soul unruffled: what manner of work could you do to-day? You will never +paint a stroke the better for anything Lady Latimer can do for you; but +lay <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>yourself open to the chafe and fret of her patronage now, and you +are done for. Ten, twenty years hence, she will be harmless, because you +will have the confidence of a name."</p> + +<p>"And she will remember that she bought my first sketch; she will say she +made me," said young Christie.</p> + +<p>"You will not care then: everybody knows that a man makes himself. +Phipps calls her vain-glorious; Carnegie calls her the very core of +goodness. In either case you don't need her. There is only one patron +for men of art and literature in these days, and that is the General +Public. The times are gone by for waiting in Chesterfield's ante-room +and hiding behind Cave's screen."</p> + +<p>Harry recited all this for Bessie's instruction. Bessie was convinced +that he had spoken judiciously: the safest way to avoid a fall is not to +be in too much haste to climb. It is more consistent with self-respect +for genius in low estate to defend its independence against the assaults +of rich patrons, seeking appendages to their glory, than to accept their +benefits, and complain that they are given with insolence. It is an +evident fact that the possessors of rank and money value themselves as +of more consequence than those whom God has endowed with other gifts and +not with these. Platitudes reveal themselves to the young as novel and +striking truths. Bessie ruminated these in profound silence. Harry +offered her a penny for her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking," said she, with a sudden revelation of the practical, +"that young Christie will suffer a great deal in his way through the +world if he stumble at such common kindness as Lady Latimer's." And then +she told the story of the cheese-cake. "I beheld my lady then as a +remote and exalted sphere, where never foot of mine would come. I have +entered it since by reason of belonging to an old house of gentry, and I +find that I can breathe there. So may he some day, when he has earned a +title to it, but he would be very uncomfortable there now."</p> + +<p>"And so may I some day, when I have earned a title to it, but I should +be very uncomfortable there now. Meanwhile we have souls above +cheese-cakes, and don't choose to bear my lady's patronage."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>Bessie felt that she was being laughed at. She grew angry, and poured +out her sentiments hot: "There is a difference between you and young +Christie; you know quite well that there is, Harry. No, I sha'n't +explain what it consists in. Lady Latimer meant to encourage him: to see +that she thinks well enough of his sketches to buy one may influence +other people to buy them. He can't live on air; and if he is to be a +painter he must study. You are not going to rise in the world without +working? If you went to her house, she would make you acquainted with +people it might be good for you to know: it is just whether you like +that sort of thing or not. I don't; I am happier at home. But men don't +want to keep at home."</p> + +<p>"<i>Already</i>, Bessie!" cried Harry in a rallying, reproachful tone.</p> + +<p>"Already <i>what</i>, Harry? I am not giving myself airs, if that is what you +mean," said she blushing.</p> + +<p>Harry shook his head, but only half in earnest: "You are, Bessie. You +are pretending to have opinions on things that you had never thought of +a month ago. Give you a year amongst your grandees, and you will hold +yourself above us all."</p> + +<p>Tears filled Bessie's eyes. She was very much hurt; she did not believe +that Harry could have misunderstood her so. "I shall never hold myself +above anybody that I was fond of when I was little; they are more likely +to forget me when I am out of sight. They have others to love." Bessie +spoke in haste and excitement. She meant neither to defend herself nor +to complain, but her voice imported a little pathos and tragedy into the +scene. Young Musgrave instantly repented and offered atonement. +"Besides," Bessie rather inconsequently ran on, "I am very fond of Lady +Latimer; she has nobody of her own, so she tries to make a family in the +world at large."</p> + +<p>"All right, Bessie—then she shall adopt you. Only don't be cross, +little goosey. Let us go into the garden." Young Musgrave made such a +burlesque of his remorse that Bessie, wounded but skin-deep, was fain to +laugh too and be friends again. And thereupon they went forth together +into the bosky old garden.</p> + +<p>What a pleasant wilderness that old garden was, even in its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>neglected +beauty! Whoever planted it loved open spaces, turf, and trees of foreign +race; for there were some rare cedars, full-grown, straight, and +stately, with feathered branches sweeping the grass, and strange shrubs +that were masses of blossom and fountains of sweet odors. The +flower-borders had run to waste; only a few impoverished roses tossed +their blushing fragrance into the air, and a few low-growing, +old-fashioned things made shift to live amongst the weeds. But the +prettiest bit of all was the verdant natural slope, below which ran the +brook that gave the village and the manor their names. The Forest is not +a land of merry running waters, but little tranquil streams meander +hither and thither, making cool its shades. Three superb beeches laved +their silken leaves in the shallow flood, and amongst their roots were +rustic seats all sheltered from sun and wind. Here had Harry Musgrave +and Bessie Fairfax sat many a summer afternoon, their heads over one +poetry-book, reading, whispering, drawing—lovers in a way, though they +never talked of love.</p> + +<p>"Shall we two ever walk together in this garden again, Harry?" said +Bessie, breaking a sentimental silence with a sigh as she gazed at the +sun-dimmed horizon.</p> + +<p>"Many a time, I hope. I'll tell you my ambition." Young Musgrave spoke +with vivacity; his eyes sparkled. "Listen, Bessie, and don't be +astonished. I mean some day to buy Brook, and come to live here. That is +my ambition."</p> + +<p>Bessie was overawed. To buy Brook was a project too vast for her +imagination. The traditions of its ancient glories still hung about it, +and the proprietor, even in his poverty, was a power in the country. +Harry proceeded with the confession of his day-dreams: "I shall pull +down the house—if it does not fall down of itself before—and build it +up again on the original plan, for I admire not all things new. With the +garden replanted and the fine old trees left, it will be a paradise—as +much of a paradise as any modern Adam can desire. And Bessie shall be my +Eve."</p> + +<p>"You will see so many Eves between now and then, Harry, that you will +have forgotten me," cried Bessie.</p> + +<p>Harry rejoined: "You are quite as likely to be carried away by a bluff +Woldshire squire as I am to fall captive to other Eves."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>"You know, Harry, I shall always be fondest of you. We have been like +real cousins. But won't you be growing rather old before you are rich +enough to buy Brook?"</p> + +<p>"If I am, you will be growing rather old too, Bessie. What do you call +old—thirty?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Do you mean to put off life till you are thirty?"</p> + +<p>"No. I mean to work and play every day as it comes. But one must have +some great events to look forward to. My visions are of being master of +Brook and of marrying Bessie. One without the other would be only half a +good fortune."</p> + +<p>"Do you care so much for me as that, Harry? I was afraid you cared for +little Christie more than for me now."</p> + +<p>"Don't be jealous of little Christie, Bessie. Surely I can like you +both. There are things a girl does not understand. You belong to me as +my father and mother do. I have told you everything. I have not told +anybody but you what I intend about Brook—not even my mother. I want it +to be our secret."</p> + +<p>"So it shall, Harry. You'll see how I can keep it," cried Bessie +delighted.</p> + +<p>"I trust you, because I know if I make a breakdown you will not change. +When I missed the English verse-prize last year (you remember, Bessie?) +I had made so sure of it that I could hardly show my face at home. +Mother was disappointed, but you just snuggled up to me and said, 'Never +mind, Harry, I love you;' and you did not care whether I had a prize or +none. And that was comfort. I made up my mind at that minute what I +should do."</p> + +<p>"Dear old Harry! I am sure your verses were the best, far away," was +Bessie's response; and then she begged to hear more of what her comrade +meant to do.</p> + +<p>Harry did not want much entreating. His schemes could hardly be called +castles in the air, so much of the solid and reasonable was there in the +design of them. He had no expectation of success by wishing, and no +trust in strokes of luck. Life is a race, and a harder race than ever. +Nobody achieves great things without great labors and often great +sacrifices. "The labor I shall not mind; the sacrifices I shall make +pay." Harry was getting out of Bessie's depth now; a little more of +poetry and romance in his views would have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>brought them nearer to the +level of her comprehension. Then he talked to her of his school, of the +old doctor, that great man, of his schoolfellows, of his rivals whom he +had distanced—not a depreciatory word of any of them. "I don't believe +in luck for myself," he said. "But there is a sort of better and worse +fortune amongst men, independent of merit. It was the narrowest shave +between me and Fordyce. I would not have given sixpence for my chance of +the scholarship against his, yet I won it. He is a good fellow, Fordyce: +he came up and shook hands as if he had won. That was just what I +wanted: I felt so happy! Now I shall go to Oxford; in a year or two I +shall have pupils, and who knows but I may gain a fellowship? I shall +take you to Oxford, Bessie, when the time comes."</p> + +<p>Bessie was as proud and as pleased in this indefinite prospect as if she +were bidden to pack up and start to-morrow. Harry went on to tell her +what Mr. Moxon had told him, how Oxford is one of the most beautiful of +cities, and one of the most famous and ancient seats of learning in the +world (which she knew from her geography-book), and there, under the +beeches, with the slow ripple at their feet, they sat happy as king and +queen in a fairy-tale, until the shadow of Mrs. Musgrave came gliding +over the grass, and her clear caressing voice broke on their ears: +"Children, children, are you never coming to tea? We have called you +from the window twice. And young Christie is here."</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>Young Christie came forward with a bow and a blush to shake hands. He +had dressed himself for Sunday to come to Brook. He had an ingenuous +face, but plain in feature. The perceptive faculties were heavily +developed, and his eyes were fine; and his mouth and chin suggested a +firmness of character.</p> + +<p>Mr. Musgrave, who was absent at dinner, was now come home tired from +Hampton. He leant back in his chair and held out a brown hand to Bessie, +who took it, and a kiss with it, as part of the regular ceremony of +greeting. She slipped into the chair set for her beside him, and was +quite at home, for Bessie was a favorite in the same degree at Brook as +Harry was at Beechhurst. Young Christie sat next to his friend <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>and +opposite to Bessie. They had many things to say to each other, and +Bessie compared them in her own mind silently. Harry was serene and +quiet; Christie's color came and went with the animation of his talk. +Harry's hands had the sunburnt hue of going ungloved, but they were the +hands of a young man devoted to scholarly pursuits; Christie's were +stained with his trade, which he practised of necessity still, wooing +art only in his bye-hours. Harry's speech was decisive and simple; +Christie's was hesitating and a little fine, a little over-careful. He +was self-conscious, and as he talked he watched who listened, his +restless eyes glancing often towards Bessie. But this had a twofold +meaning, for while he talked of other things his faculty of observation +was at work; it was always at work as an undercurrent.</p> + +<p>Loveliness of color had a perpetual fascination for him. He was +considering the tints in Bessie's hair and in the delicate, downy +rose-oval of her cheeks, and the effect upon them of the sunshine +flickering through the vine leaves. When the after-glow was red in the +west, the dark green cloth of the window-curtain, faded to purple and +orange, made a rich background for her fair head, and he beheld in his +fancy a picture that some day he would reproduce. On the tea-table he +had laid down a twig of maple, the leaves of which were curiously +crenated by some insect, and with it a clump of moss, and a stone +speckled in delicious scarlet and tawny patches of lichen-growth—bits +of Nature and beauty in which he saw more than others see, and had +picked up in his walk by Great-Ash Ford through the Forest to Brook.</p> + +<p>"I live in hope of some lucky accident to give me the leisure and +opportunity for study; till then I must stick to my mechanical trade of +painting and graining," he was saying while his eyes roved about +Bessie's face, and his fingers toyed first with the twig of maple and +then with the pearled moss. "My father thinks scorn of art for a living, +and predicts me repentance and starvation. I tell him we shall see; one +must not expect to be a prophet in one's own country. But I am half +promised a commission at the Hampton Theatre—a new drop-scene. My +sketch is approved—it is a Forest view. The decision must come soon."</p> + +<p>Everybody present wished the young fellow success. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>"Though whether you +have success or not you will have a share of happiness, because you are +a dear lover of Nature, and Nature never lets her lovers go unrewarded," +said Mrs. Musgrave kindly.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but I shall not be satisfied with her obscure favors," cried little +Christie airily.</p> + +<p>"You must have applause: I don't think I care for applause," said young +Musgrave; and he cut Bessie a slice of cake.</p> + +<p>Bessie proceeded to munch it with much gravity and enjoyment—Harry's +mother made excellent cakes—and the father of the house, smiling at her +serious absorption, patted her on the shoulder and said, "And what does +Bessie Fairfax care for?"</p> + +<p>"Only to be loved," says Bessie without a thought.</p> + +<p>"And that is what you will be, for love's a gift," rejoined Mr. +Musgrave. "These skip-jacks who talk of setting the world on fire will +be lucky if they make only blaze enough to warm themselves."</p> + +<p>"Ay, indeed—and getting rich. Talk's cheap, but it takes a deal of +money to buy land," said his wife, who had a shrewd inkling of her son's +ambition, though he had not confessed it to her. "Young folks little +think of the chances and changes of this mortal life, or it's a blessing +they'd seek before anything else."</p> + +<p>Bessie's face clouded at a word of changes. "Don't fret, Bessie, we'll +none of us forget you," said the kind father. But this was too much for +her tender heart. She pushed back her chair and ran out of the room. For +the last hour the tears had been very near her eyes, and now they +overflowed. Mrs. Musgrave followed to comfort her.</p> + +<p>"To go all amongst strangers!" sobbed Bessie; and her philosophy quite +failed her when that prospect recurred in its dreadful blankness. +Happily, the time of night did not allow of long lamentation. Presently +Harry called at the stair's foot that it was seven o'clock. And she +kissed his mother and bade Brook good-bye.</p> + +<p>The walk home was through the Forest, between twilight and moonlight. +The young men talked and Bessie was silent. She had no favor towards +young Christie previously, but she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>liked his talk to-night and his +devotion to Harry Musgrave, and she enrolled him henceforward amongst +those friends and acquaintances of her happy childhood at Beechhurst +concerning whom inquiries were to be made in writing home when she was +far away.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<h3><i>FAREWELL TO THE FOREST.</i></h3> + +<p>A few days after his meeting with Bessie Fairfax at Brook, young +Christie left at the doctor's door a neat, thin parcel addressed to her +with his respects. Lady Latimer and Mrs. Wiley, who were still +interesting themselves in her affairs, were with Mrs. Carnegie at the +time, giving her some instructions in Bessie's behalf. Mrs. Carnegie was +rather bothered than helped by their counsels, but she did not +discourage them, because of the advantage to Bessie of having their +countenance and example. Bessie, sitting apart at the farther side of +the round table, untied the string and unfolded the silver paper. Then +there was a blush, a smile, a cry of pleasure. At what? At a picture of +herself that little Christie had painted, and begged to make an offering +of. It was handed round for the inspection of the company.</p> + +<p>"A slight thing," said Mrs. Wiley with a negligent glance. "Young +Christie fishes with sprats to catch whales, as Askew told him +yesterday. He brought his portfolio and a drawing of the church to show, +but we did not buy anything. We are afraid that he will turn out a sad, +idle fellow, going dawdling about instead of keeping to his trade. His +father is much grieved."</p> + +<p>"This is sketchy, but full of spirit," said Lady Latimer, holding the +drawing at arm's length to admire.</p> + +<p>"It is life itself! We must hear what your father says to it, Bessie," +Mrs. Carnegie added in a pleased voice.</p> + +<p>"If her father does not buy it, I will. It is a charming little +picture," said my lady.</p> + +<p>Bessie was gratified, but she hoped her father would not let anybody +else possess it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>"A matter of a guinea, and it will be well paid for," said the rector's +wife.</p> + +<p>No one made any rejoinder, but Mr. Carnegie gave the aspiring artist +five guineas (he would not have it as a gift, which little Christie +meant), and plenty of verbal encouragement besides. Lady Latimer further +invited him to paint her little friends, Dora and Dandy. He accepted the +commission, and fulfilled it with effort and painstaking, but not with +such signal success as his portrait of Bessie. That was an inspiration. +The doctor hung up the picture in the dining-room for company every day +in her absence, and promised that it should keep her place for her in +all their hearts and memories until she came home again.</p> + +<p>There are not many more events to chronicle until the great event of +Bessie's farewell to Beechhurst. She gave a tea-party to her friends in +the Forest, a picnic tea-party at Great-Ash Ford; and on a fine morning, +when the air blew fresh from the sea, she and her handsome new baggage +were packed, with young Musgrave, into the back seat of the doctor's +chaise, the doctor sitting in front with his man to drive. Their +destination was Hampton, to take the boat for Havre. The man was to +return home with the chaise in the evening. The doctor was going on to +Caen, to deliver his dear little girl safely at school, and Harry was +going with them for a holiday. All the Carnegie children and their +mother, the servants and the house-dog, were out in the road to bid +Bessie a last good-bye; the rector and his wife were watching over the +hedge; and Miss Buff panted up the hill at the last moment, with fat +tears running down her cheeks. She had barely time for a word, Mr. +Carnegie always cutting short leave-takings. Bessie's nose was pink with +tears and her eyes glittered, but she was in good heart. She looked +behind her as long as she could see her mother, and Jack and Willie +coursing after the chaise with damp pocket-handkerchiefs a-flutter; and +then she turned her face the way she was going, and said with a shudder, +"It is a beautiful, sunny morning, but for all that it is cold."</p> + +<p>"Have my coat-sleeve, Bessie," suggested Harry, and they both laughed, +then became quiet, then merry.</p> + +<p>About two miles out of Hampton the travellers overtook <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>little Christie +making the road fly behind him as he marched apace, a knapsack at his +back and his chin in the air.</p> + +<p>"Whither away so fast, young man?" shouted the doctor, hailing him.</p> + +<p>"To Hampton Theatre," shouted Christie back again, and he flourished his +hat round his head. Harry Musgrave repeated the triumphant gesture with +a loud hurrah. The artist that was to be had got that commission for the +new drop-scene at the theatre. His summons had come by this morning's +post.</p> + +<p>The toil-worn, dusty little figure was long in sight, for now the road +ran in a direct line. Bessie wished they could have given him a lift on +his journey. Harry Musgrave continued to look behind, but he said +nothing. It is some men's fortune to ride cock-horse, it is some other +men's to trudge afoot; but neither is the lot of the first to be envied, +nor the lot of the last to be deplored. Such would probably have been +his philosophy if he had spoken. Bessie, regarding externals only, and +judging of things as they seemed, felt pained by the outward signs of +inequality.</p> + +<p>In point of fact, little Christie was the happiest of the three at that +moment. According to his own belief, he was just about to lay hold of +the key that would open for him the outer door of the Temple of Fame. +After that blessed drop-scene that he was on his way to execute at +Hampton, never more would he return to his mechanical painting and +graining. It was an epoch that they all dated from, this shining day of +September, when Bessie Fairfax bade farewell to the Forest, and little +Christie set out on his career of honor with a knapsack on his back and +seven guineas in his pocket. As for Harry Musgrave, his leading-strings +were broken before, and he was in some sort a citizen of the world +already.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<h3><i>BESSIE GOES INTO EXILE.</i></h3> + +<p>The rapid action and variety of the next few days were ever after like a +dream to Bessie Fairfax. A tiring day in Hampton town, a hurried walk to +the docks in the sunset, the gorgeous autumnal sunset that flushed the +water like fire; a splendid hour in the river, ships coming up full +sail, and twilight down to the sea; a long, deep sleep. Then sunrise on +rolling green waves, low cliffs, headlands of France; a vast turmoil, +hubbub, and confusion of tongues; a brief excursion into Havre, by gay +shops to gayer gardens, and breakfast in the gayest of glass-houses. +Then embarkation on board the boat for Caen; a gentle sea-rocking; +soldiers, men in blouses, women in various patterns of caps; the mouth +of the Orne; fringes on the coast of fashionable resort for sea-bathers. +Miles up the stream, dreary, dreary; poplars leaning aslant from the +wind, low mud-banks, beds of osiers, reeds, rushes, willows; poplars +standing erect as a regiment in line, as many regiments, a gray monotony +of poplars; the tide flowing higher, laving the reeds, the sallows, all +pallid with mist and soft driving rain. A gleam of sun on a lawn, on +roses, on a conical red roof; orchards, houses here and there, with +shutters closed, and the afternoon sun hot upon them; acres of +market-garden, artichokes, flat fields, a bridge, rushy ditches, tall +array of poplars repeated and continued endlessly.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Bessie, "I shall hate a poplar as long as I live!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie agreed that the scenery was not enchanting. Beautiful +France is not to compare with the beautiful Forest. Harry Musgrave was +in no haste with his opinion; he was looking out for Caen, that ancient +and famous town of the Norman duke who conquered England. He had been +reading up the guide-book and musing over history, while Bessie had been +letting the poplars weigh her mind down to the brink of despondency.</p> + +<p>A repetition of the noisy landing at Havre, despatch of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>baggage to +Madame Fournier's, everybody's heart failing for fear of that august, +unknown lady. A sudden resolution on the doctor's part to delay the +dread moment of consigning Bessie to the school-mistress until evening, +and a descent on Thunby's hotel. A walk down the Rue St. Jean to the +Place St. Pierre, and by the way a glimpse, through an open door in a +venerable gateway, of a gravelled court-yard planted with sycamores and +surrounded by lofty walls, draped to the summit with vines and ivy; in +the distance an arcade with vistas of garden beyond lying drowsy in the +sunshine, the angle of a large mansion, and fluttering lilac wreaths of +wisteria over the portal.</p> + +<p>"If this is Madame Fournier's school, it is a hushed little world," said +the doctor.</p> + +<p>Bessie beheld it with awe. There was a solemn picturesqueness in the +prospect that daunted her imagination.</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave referred to his guide-book: "Ah, I thought so—this is +the place. Bessie, Charlotte Corday lived here."</p> + +<p>Above the rickety gateway were two rickety windows. At those windows +Charlotte might have sat over her copy of Plutarch's "Lives," a +ruminating republican in white muslin, before the Revolution, or have +gazed at the sombre church of St. Jean across the street, in the happier +days before she despised going to old-fashioned worship. Bessie looked +up at them more awed than ever. "I hope her ghost does not haunt the +house. Come away, Harry," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Harry laughed at her superstition. They went forward under the irregular +peaked houses, stunned at intervals by side-gusts of evil odor, till +they came to the place and church of St. Pierre. The market-women in +white-winged caps, who had been sitting at the receipt of custom since +morning surrounded by heaps of glowing fruit and flowers, were now +vociferously gathering up their fragments, their waifs and strays and +remnants, to go home. The men were harnessing their horses, filling +their carts. It was all a clamorous, sunny, odd sort of picture amidst +the quaint and ancient buildings. Then they went into the church, into +the gloom and silence out of the stir. The doctor made the young ones a +sign to hush. There were women on their knees, and on the steps of the +altar a priest of dignified aspect, and a file of acolytes, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>awfully +ugly, the very refuse of the species—all but one, who was a saint for +beauty of countenance and devoutness of mien. Harry glanced at him and +his companions as if they were beings of a strange and mysterious race; +and the numerous votive offerings to "Our Lady of La Salette" and +elsewhere he eyed askance with the expression of a very sound Protestant +indeed. The lovely luxuriant architecture, the foliated carvings, were +dim in the evening light. A young sculptor, who was engaged in the work +of restoring some of these rich carvings, came down from his perch while +the strangers stood to admire them.</p> + +<p>That night by nine o'clock Bessie Fairfax was in the <i>dortoir</i> at Madame +Fournier's—a chamber of six windows and twenty beds, narrow, hard, +white, and, except her own and one other, empty. By whose advice it was +that she was sent to school a week in advance of the opening she never +knew. But there she was in the wilderness of a house, with only a +dejected English teacher suffering from chronic face-ache, and another +scholar, younger than herself, for company. The great madame was still +absent at Bayeux, spending the vacation with her uncle the canon.</p> + +<p>It was a moonlight night, and the jalousies looking upon the garden were +not closed. Bessie was neither timid nor grievous, but she was +desperately wide-awake. The formality of receiving her and showing her +to bed had been very briefly despatched. It seemed as if she had been +left at the door like a parcel, conveyed up stairs, and put away. +Beechhurst was a thousand miles off, and yesterday a hundred years ago! +The doctor and Harry Musgrave could hardly have walked back to Thunby's +hotel before she and her new comrade were in their little beds. Now, +indeed, was the Rubicon passed, and Bessie Fairfax committed to all the +vicissitudes of exile. She realized the beginning thereof when she +stretched her tired limbs on her unyielding mattress of straw, and +recalled her dear little warm nest under the eaves at home.</p> + +<p>Presently, from a remote couch spoke her one companion, "I am sitting up +on end. What are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Lying down and staring at the moon," replied Bessie, and +turned her eyes in the direction of the voice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>The figure sitting up on end was distinctly visible. It was clasping +its knees, its long hair flowed down its back, and its face was steadily +addressed to the window at the foot of its bed. "Do you care to talk?" +asked the queer apparition.</p> + +<p>"I shall not fall asleep for <i>hours</i> yet," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"Then let us have a good talk." The unconscious quoter of Dr. Johnson +contributed her full share to the colloquy. She told her story, and why +she was at Madame Fournier's: "Father's ship comes from Yarmouth in +Norfolk. It is there we are at home, but he is nearly always at sea—to +and fro to Havre and Caen, to Dunkirk and Bordeaux. It is a fine sailing +ship, the Petrel. When the wind blows I think of father, though he has +weathered many storms. To-night it will be beautiful on the water. I +have often sailed with father." A prodigious sigh closed the paragraph, +and drew from Bessie a query that perhaps she wished she was sailing +with him now? She did, indeed! "He left me here because I was not +well—it is three weeks since; it was the day of the emperor's +<i>fête</i>—but I am no stronger yet. I have been left here before—once for +a whole half-year. I hope it won't be so long this time; I do so miss +father! My mother is dead, and he has married another wife. I believe +she wishes I were dead too."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," cried Bessie, much amazed. "I have a mother who is not really +my mother, but she is as good as if she were."</p> + +<p>"Then she is not like mine. Are women all alike? Hush! there is Miss +Foster at the door—<i>listening</i>.... She is gone now; she didn't peep +in.... Tell me, do you hear anything vulgar in my speech?"</p> + +<p>"No—it is plain enough." It was a question odd and unexpected, and +Bessie had to think before she answered it.</p> + +<p>Her questioner mistook her reflection for hesitation, and seemed +disappointed. "Ah, but you do," said she, "though you don't like to tell +me so. It is provincial, very provincial, Miss Foster admits.... Next +week, when the young ladies come back, I shall wish myself more than +ever with father."</p> + +<p>"What for? don't you like school?" Bessie was growing deeply interested +in these random revelations.</p> + +<p>"No. How should I? I don't belong to them. Everybody <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>slights me but +madame. Miss Hiloe has set me down as quite <i>common</i>. It is so +dreadful!"</p> + +<p>Bessie's heart had begun to beat very hard. "Is it?" said she in a tone +of apprehension. "Do they profess to despise you?"</p> + +<p>"More than that—they <i>do</i> despise me; they don't know how to scorn me +enough. But you are not <i>common</i>, so why should you be afraid? My father +is a master-mariner—John Fricker of Great Yarmouth. What is yours?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mine was a clergyman, but he is long since dead, and my own mother +too. The father and mother who have taken care of me since live at +Beechhurst in the Forest, and <i>he</i> is a doctor. It is my grandfather who +sends me here to school, and he is a country gentleman, a squire. But I +like my common friends best—<i>far</i>!"</p> + +<p>"If you have a squire for your grandfather you may speak as you +please—Miss Hiloe will not call you common. Oh, I am shrewd enough: I +know more than I tell. Miss Foster says I have the virtues of my class, +but I have no business at a school like this. She wonders what Madame +Fournier receives me for. Oh, I wish father may come over next month! +Nobody can tell how lonely I feel sometimes. Will you call me Janey?" +Janey's poor little face went down upon her knees, and there was the +sound of sobs. Bessie's tender heart yearned to comfort this misery, and +she would have gone over to administer a kiss, had she not been +peremptorily warned not to risk it: there was the gleam of a light below +the door. When that alarm was past, composure returned to the +master-mariner's little daughter, and Bessie ventured to ask if the +French girls were nice.</p> + +<p>The answer sounded pettish: "There are all sorts in a school like this. +Elise Finckel lives in the Place St. Pierre: they are clock and +watchmakers, the Finckels. Once I went there; then Elise and Miss Hiloe +made friends, and it was good-bye to me! but clanning is forbidden."</p> + +<p>Bessie required enlightening as to what "clanning" meant. The +explanation was diffuse, and branched off into so many anecdotes and +illustrations that in spite of the moonlight, her nerves, her interest, +and her forebodings, Bessie began to yield to the overpowering influence +of sleep. The little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>comrade, listened to no longer, ceased her prattle +and napped off too.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>The next sound Bessie Fairfax heard was the irregular clangor of a bell, +and behold it was morning! Some one had been into the <i>dortoir</i> and had +opened a window or two. The warm fragrant breath of sunshine and twitter +of birds entered.</p> + +<p>"So this is being at school in France? What a din!" said Bessie, +stopping her ears and looking for her comrade.</p> + +<p>That strange child was just opening a pair of sleepy eyes and exhorting +herself by name: "Now, Miss Janey Fricker, you will be wise to get up +without more thinking about it, or there will be a bad mark and an +imposition for you, my dear. What a blessing! five dull days yet before +the arrival of the tormentors!" She slipped out upon the floor, +exclaiming how tired she was and how all her bones ached, till Bessie's +heart ached too for pity of the delicate, sensitive morsel of humanity.</p> + +<p>They had soup for breakfast, greasy, flavorless stuff loaded with +vegetables, and bread sour with long keeping. This was terrible to +Bessie. She sipped and put down her spoon, then tried again. Miss +Foster, at the same table, partook of a rough decoction of coffee with +milk, and a little rancid butter on the sour bread toasted.</p> + +<p>After breakfast the two girls were told that they were permitted to go +into the garden. They spent the whole morning there, and there Mr. +Carnegie and Harry Musgrave found Bessie when they came to take their +final leave of her. It was good and brave of the little girl not to +distress them with complaints, for she was awfully hungry, and likely to +be so until her dainty appetite was broken in to French school-fare. Her +few tears did not signify.</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave said the garden was not so pretty as it appeared from the +street, and the doctor made rueful allusions to convents and prisons, +and was not half satisfied to leave his dear little Bessie there. The +morning sun had gone off the grass. The walls were immensely lofty—the +tallest trees did not overtop them. There was a weedy, weak fountain, a +damp grotto, and two shrines with white images of the Blessed Mary +crowned with gilt stars.</p> + +<p>Miss Foster came into the garden the moment the visitors <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>appeared, +holding one hand against the flannel that enveloped her face. She made +the usual polite speeches of hope, expectation, and promise concerning +the new-comer, and stayed about until the gentlemen went. Then an +inexpressible flatness fell upon Bessie, and she would probably have +wept in earnest, but for the sight of Janey Fricker standing aloof and +gazing at her wistfully for an invitation to draw near. Somebody to +succor was quite in Bessie's way; helpless, timid things felt safe under +covert of her wing. It gave her a vocation at once to have this weak, +ailing little girl seeking to her for protection, and she called her to +come. How gladly Janey came!</p> + +<p>"What were you thinking of just now when I lost my friends?" Bessie +asked her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of lots of things: I can't tell you of what. Is that your brother?"</p> + +<p>"No, he is a cousin."</p> + +<p>"Are you very fond of him? I wonder what it feels like to have many +people to love? I have no one but father."</p> + +<p>"Harry Musgrave and I have known each other all our lives. And now you +and I are going to be friends."</p> + +<p>"If you don't find somebody you like better, as Elise Finckel did. There +is the bell; it means dinner in ten minutes." Bessie was looking sorry +at her new comrade's suspicion. Janey was quick to see it. "Oh, I have +vexed you about Elise?" cried she in a voice of pleading distress. "When +shall I learn to trust anybody again?"</p> + +<p>Bessie smiled superior. "Very soon, I hope," said she. "You must not +afflict yourself with fancies. I am not vexed; I am only sorry if you +won't trust me. Let us wait and see. I feel a kindness for most people, +and don't need to love one less because I love another more. I promise +to keep a warm place in my heart for you always, you little mite! I have +even taken to Miss Foster because I pity her. She looks so overworked, +and jaded, and poor."</p> + +<p>"It is easy to like Miss Foster when you know her. She keeps her mamma, +and her salary is only twenty-five pounds a year."</p> + +<p>The dinner, to which the girls adjourned at a second summons of the +bell, was as little appetizing as the breakfast had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>been. There was the +nauseous soup, a morsel of veal, a salad dressed with rank oil, a mess +of sweet curd, and a dish of stewed prunes. After the fiction of dining, +Miss Foster took the two pupils for a walk by the river, where groups of +soldiers under shade of the trees were practising the fife and the drum. +Caen seemed to be full of soldiers, marching and drilling for ever. +Louise, the handsome portress at the school, frankly avowed that she did +not know what the young women of her generation would do for husbands; +the conscription carried away all the finest young men. Janey loved to +watch the soldiers; she loved all manner of shows, and also to tell of +them. She asked Bessie if she would like to hear about the emperor's +<i>fête</i> last month; and when Bessie acquiesced, she began in a discursive +narrative style by which a story can be stretched to almost any length:</p> + +<p>"There was a military mass at St. Etienne's in the morning. I had only +just left father, but Mademoiselle Adelaide took me with her, and a +priest sent us up into the triforium—you understand what the triforium +is? a gallery in the apse looking down on the choir. The triforium at +St. Etienne's is wide enough to drive a coach and four round; at the +Augustines, where we went once to see three sisters take the white veil, +it is quite narrow, and without anything to prevent you falling over—a +dizzy place. But I am forgetting the <i>fête</i>.... It was <i>so</i> beautiful +when the doors were thrown open, and the soldiers and flags came +tramping in with the sunshine, and filled the nave! The generals sat +with the mayor and the <i>prêfet</i> in the chancel, ever so grand in their +ribbons and robes and orders. The service was all music and not long: +soldiers don't like long prayers. You will see them go to mass on Sunday +at St. Jean's, opposite the school.... Then at night there was a +procession—such a pandemonium! such a rabble-rout, with music and +shouting, soldiers marching at the double, carrying blazing torches, and +a cloud of paper lanterns that caught fire and flared out. We could hear +the discordant riot ever so far off, and when the mob came up our street +again, almost in the dark, I covered my ears. Of all horrible sounds, a +mob of excited Frenchmen can make the worst. The wind in a storm at sea +is nothing to it."</p> + +<p>There was a man gathering peaches from the sunny wall <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>of a garden-house +by the river. Janey finished her tale, and remarked that here fruit +could be bought. Bessie, rich in the possession of a pocketful of money, +was most truly glad to hear it, and a great feast of fruit ensued, with +accompaniments of <i>galette</i> and new milk. Then the walk was continued in +a circuit which brought them back to the school through the town. The +return was followed by a collation of thick bread and butter and thin +tea; then by a little reading aloud in Miss Foster's holiday apartment, +and then by the <i>dortoir</i>, and another good talk in the moonlight until +sleep overwhelmed the talkers. Bessie dropt off with the thought in her +mind that her father and dear Harry Musgrave must be just about going on +board the vessel at Havre that was to carry them to Hampton, and that +when she woke up in the morning they would be on English soil once more, +and riding home to Beechhurst through the dewy glades of the Forest....</p> + +<p>This account of twenty-four hours will stand for the whole of that first +week of Bessie's exile. Only the walks of an afternoon were varied. In +company with dull, neuralgic Miss Foster the two pupils visited the +famous stone-quarries above the town, out of which so many grand +churches have been built; they compassed the shaded Cours; they +investigated the museum, and Bessie was introduced to the pretty +portrait of Charlotte Corday, in a simple cross-over white gown, a blue +sash and mob-cap. Afterward she was made acquainted with a lady of +royalist partialities, whose mother had actually known the heroine, and +had lived through the terrible days of the Terror. Her tradition was +that the portrait of Charlotte was imaginary, and, as to her beauty, +delusive, and that the tragical young lady's moving passion was a +passion for notoriety. Bessie wondered and doubted, and began to think +history a most interesting study.</p> + +<p>For another "treat," as Janey Fricker called it, they went on the Sunday +to drink tea with Miss Foster at her mother's. Mrs. Foster was a widow +with ideas of gentility in poverty. She was a chirping, bird-like little +woman, and lived in a room as trellised as a bird-cage. The house was on +the site of the old ramparts, and the garden sloped to the <i>fosse</i>. A +magnolia blossomed in it, and delicious pears, of the sort called "Bon +chrêtiens," ripened on gnarled trees. This week was, in fact, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>a +beautiful little prelude to school life, if Bessie had but known it. But +her appreciation of its simple pleasures came later, when they were for +ever past. She remembered then, with a sort of remorse, laughing at +Janey's notion of a "treat." Everything goes by comparison. At this time +Bessie had no experience of what it is to live by inelastic rule and +rote, to be ailing and unhappy, alone in a crowd and neglected. Janey +believed in Mrs. Foster's sun-baked little garden as a veritable pattern +of Eden, but Bessie knew the Forest, she knew Fairfield, and almost +despised that mingled patch of beauty and usefulness, of sweet odors and +onions, for Mrs. Foster grew potherbs and vegetables amongst her +flowers.</p> + +<p>Thus Bessie's first week of exile got over, and except for a sense of +being hungry now and then, she did not find herself so very miserable +after all.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<h3><i>SCHOOL-DAYS AT CAEN.</i></h3> + +<p>One morning Bessie Fairfax rose to a new sensation. "To-day the classes +open, and there is an end of treats," cried Janey Fricker with a +despairing resignation. "You will soon see the day-scholars, and by +degrees the boarders will arrive. Madame was to come late last night, +and the next news will be of Miss Hiloe. Perhaps they will appear +to-morrow. Heigh-ho!"</p> + +<p>"You are not to care for Miss Hiloe; I shall stand up for you. I have no +notion of tyrants," said Bessie in a spirited way. But her feelings were +very mixed, very far from comfortable. This morning it seemed more than +ever cruel to have sent her to school at her age, ignorant as she was of +school ways. She shuddered in anticipation of the dreadful moment when +it would be publicly revealed that she could neither play on the piano +nor speak a word of French. Her deficiencies had been confided to Janey +in a shy, shamefaced way, and Janey, who could chatter fluently in +French and play ten tunes at least, had betrayed amaze<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>ment. Afterward +she had given consolation. There was one boarder who made no pretence of +learning music, and several day-scholars; of course, being French, they +spoke French, but not a girl of them all, not madame herself, could +frame three consecutive sentences in English to be understood.</p> + +<p>In the novelty of the situation Janey was patroness for the day. Madame +Fournier had to be encountered after breakfast, and proved to be a +perfectly small lady, of most intelligent countenance and kind +conciliatory speech. She kissed Janey on both cheeks, and bent a +penetrating pair of brown eyes on Bessie's face, which looked intensely +proud in her blushing shyness. Madame had received from Mrs. Wiley (a +former pupil and temporary teacher) instructions that Bessie's education +and training had been of the most desultory kind, and that it was +imperatively necessary to remedy her deficiencies, and give her a +veneering of cultivation and a polish to fit her for the station of life +to which she was called. Madame was able to judge for herself in such +matters. Bessie impressed her favorably, and no humiliation was +inflicted on her even as touching her ignorance of French and the piano. +It was decreed that as Bessie professed no enthusiasm for music, it +would be wasting time that might be more profitably employed to teach +her; and a recommendation to the considerate indulgence of Mademoiselle +Adelaide, who was in charge of the junior class, saved her from huffs +and ridicule while going through the preliminary paces of French.</p> + +<p>At recreation-time in the garden Janey ran up to ask how she had got on. +"<i>J'ai, tu as, il a</i>," said Bessie, and laughed with radiant audacity. +Her phantoms were already vanishing into thin air.</p> + +<p>Not many French girls were yet present. The next noon-day they were +doubled. By Saturday all were come, and answered to their names when the +roll was called, the great and dreadful Miss Hiloe amongst them. They +were two, Mademoiselle Ada and Mademoiselle Ellen. The younger sister +was a cipher—an echo of the elder, and an example of how she ought to +be worshipped. Mademoiselle Ada would be a personage wherever she was. +Already her <i>rôle</i> in the world was adopted. She had a pale Greek face, +a lofty look, and a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>proud spirit. She was not rude to those who paid +her the homage that was her due—she was, indeed, helpful and +patronizing to the humble—but for a small Mordecai like Janey Fricker +she had nothing but insolence and rough words. Janey would not bow down +to her; in her own way Janey was as stubborn and proud as her tyrant, +but she was not as strong. She was a waif by herself, and Mademoiselle +Ada was obeyed, served, and honored by a large following of admirers. +Bessie Fairfax did not feel drawn to enroll herself amongst them, and +before the classes had been a month assembled she had rejoiced the heart +of the master-mariner's little daughter with many warm, affectionate +assurances that there was no one else in all the school that she loved +so well as herself.</p> + +<p>By degrees, and very quick degrees, Bessie's tremors for how she should +succeed at school wore off. What fantastic distresses she would have +been saved if she had known beforehand that she possessed a gift of +beauty, more precious in the sight of girls than the first place in the +first class, than the utmost eloquence of tongues, and the most +brilliant execution on the piano! It came early to be disputed whether +Mademoiselle Ada or Mademoiselle Bessie was the <i>belle des belles</i>; and +Bessie, too, soon had her court of devoted partisans, who extolled her +fair roseate complexion, blue eyes, and golden hair as lovelier far than +Mademoiselle Ada's cold, severe perfection of feature. Bessie took their +praises very coolly, and learnt her verbs, wrote her <i>dictées</i>, and +labored at her <i>thêmes</i> with the solid perseverance of a girl who has +her charms to acquire. The Miss Hiloes were not unwilling to be on good +terms with her, but that, she told them, was impossible while they were +so ostentatiously discourteous to her friend, Janey Fricker. When to her +armor of beauty Bessie added the weapon of fearless, incisive speech, +the risk of affronts was much abated. Mr. Carnegie had prophesied wisely +when he said for his wife's consolation that character tells more in the +long-run than talking French or playing on the piano. Her companions +might like Bessie Fairfax, or they might let liking alone, but very few +would venture a second time on ill-natured demonstrations either towards +herself or towards any one she protected.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>Bessie's position in the community was established when the tug of work +began. Her health and complexion triumphed over the coarse, hard fare; +her habits of industry made application easy; but the dulness and +monotony were sickening to her, the routine and confinement were hateful +yoke and bondage. Saving one march on Sunday to the Temple under Miss +Foster's escort, she went nowhere beyond the garden for weeks together. +Both French and English girls were in the same case, unless some friend +residing in the town or visiting it obtained leave to take them out. And +nobody came for Bessie. That she should go home to Beechhurst for a +Christmas holiday she had taken for granted; and while abiding the +narrow discipline, and toiling at her unaccustomed tasks with +conscientious diligence, that flattering anticipation made sunshine in +the distance. Every falling leaf, every chill breath of advancing +winter, brought it nearer. Janey and she used to talk of it half their +recreation-time—by the stagnant, weedy fountain in the garden at noon, +and in the twilight windows of the <i>classe</i>, when thoughts of the absent +are sweetest. For the Petrel had not come into port at Caen since the +autumn, and Janey was still left at school in daily expectation and +uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"I am only sorry, Janey, that you are not sure of going home too," said +Bessie, one day, commiserating her.</p> + +<p>"If I am not sailing with father I would rather be here. <i>I</i> am not so +lonely since you came," responded Janey.</p> + +<p>Then Bessie dilated on the pleasantness of the doctor's house, the +excellent kindness of her father and mother, the goodness of the boys, +the rejoicing there would be at her return, both amongst friends at +Beechhurst and friends at Brook. Each day, after she had indulged her +memory and imagination in this strain, her heart swelled with loving +expectancy, and when the recess was spoken of as beginning "next week," +she could hardly contain herself for joy.</p> + +<p>What a cruel pity that such natural delightsome hopes must all collapse, +all fall to the ground! It was ruled by Mr. Fairfax that his +granddaughter had been absent so short a time that she need not go to +England this winter season. Came a letter from Mrs. Carnegie to express +the infinite disappointment at home. And there an end.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>"I cried for three days," Bessie afterward confessed. "It seemed that +there never could befall me such another misery."</p> + +<p>It was indeed terrible. In a day the big house was empty of scholars. +Madame Fournier adjourned to Bayeux. Miss Foster went to her mother. The +masters, the other teachers disappeared, all except Mademoiselle +Adelaide, who was to stay in charge of the two girls for a fortnight, +and then to resign her office for the same period to Miss Foster. There +was a month of this heartless solitude before Bessie and Janey. +Mademoiselle Adelaide bemoaned herself as their jailer, as much in +prison as they. They had good grounds of complaint. A deserted school at +Christmas-time is not a cheerful place.</p> + +<p>But there was compensation preparing for Bessie.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>"And when does Bessie Fairfax come?" was almost the first question of +Harry Musgrave when he arrived from Oxford.</p> + +<p>"Bessie is not to come at all," was the answer.</p> + +<p>What was that for? He proceeded to an investigation. There was a streak +of lively, strong perversity in Harry Musgrave. Remarks had been passed +on his accompanying Mr. Carnegie when he conveyed Bessie to +school—quite uncalled-for remarks, which had originated at Fairfield +and the rectory. The impertinence of them roused Harry's temper, and, +boy-like, he instantly resolved that if his dear little Bessie was kept +away from home and punished on his account, he would give her meddlesome +friends something to talk about by going to Caen again and seeing her in +spite of them. He made out with clearness enough to satisfy his +conscience that Lady Latimer and Mrs. Wiley gave themselves unnecessary +anxiety about Mr. Fairfax's granddaughter, and that he was perfectly +justified in circumventing their cautious tactics. He did not speak of +his intention to the Carnegies, lest he should meet with a remonstrance +that he would be forced to yield to; but he told his sympathizing mother +that he was going to spend five pounds of his pocket-money in a run +across to Normandy to see Bessie Fairfax. Mrs. Musgrave asked if it was +quite wise, quite kind, for Bessie's sake. He was sure that Bessie would +be glad, and he did not care who was vexed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>Harry Musgrave gave himself no leisure to reconsider the matter, but +went off to Hampton, to Havre, to Caen, with the lightest heart and most +buoyant spirit in the world. He put up at Thunby's, and in the frosty +sunshine of the next morning marched with the airs and sensations of a +lover in mischief to the Rue St. Jean. Louise, that sage portress, +recognized the bold young cousin of the English <i>belle des belles</i>, and +announced him to Mademoiselle Adelaide. After a parley Bessie was +permitted to receive him, to go out with him, to be as happy as three +days were long. Harry told her how and why he had come, and Bessie was +furiously indignant at the Wileys pretending to any concern in her +affairs. Towards Lady Latimer she was more indulgent. They spent many +hours in company, and told all their experiences. Harry talked of dons +and proctors, of work and play, of hopes and projects, of rivals and +friends. Bessie had not so much to tell: she showed him the <i>classe</i> and +her place there, and introduced him to Janey. They visited all the +public gardens and river-side walks. They were beautiful young people, +and were the observed of many observers. The sagacious <i>curé</i> of St. +Jean's, the confessor and director at the school, saw them by chance on +the morning of a day when he had a mission to Bayeux. What more natural +than that he should call upon Madame Fournier at her uncle the canon's +house? and what more simple than that he should mention having met the +English <i>belle</i> and her cousin of the dangerous sex?</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax and Janey Fricker attended vespers regularly on Sunday +afternoons at the church of St. Jean; but they were not amongst the fair +penitents who whispered their peccadilloes once a fortnight in the +<i>curé's</i> ear—he secluded in an edifice of chintz like a shower-bath, +they kneeling outside the curtain with the blank eyes of the Holy Mother +upon them, and the remote presence of a guardian-teacher out of hearing. +But he took an interest in them. No overt act of proselytism was +permitted in the school, but if an English girl liked vespers instead of +the second service at the Temple, her preference was not discouraged. +Bessie attended the Protestant ordinances at stated seasons, and went to +vespers and benediction besides. The <i>curé</i> approved of her ingenuous +devotion. Once upon a time there had been Fairfaxes faith<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>ful children +of the Church: this young lady was an off-set of that house, its heiress +and hope in this generation; it would be a holy deed to bring her, the +mother perhaps of a new line, within its sacred pale.</p> + +<p>Madame Fournier heard his communication with alarm. Already, by her +ex-teacher Mrs. Wiley, this young Musgrave had been spoken against with +voice of warning. Madame returned to Caen with her worthy pastor. The +enterprising lover was just flown. Bessie had a sunshine face. +Mademoiselle Adelaide wept that night because of the reproaches madame +made her, and the following morning Bessie was invited to resume her +lessons, and was mulcted of every holiday indulgence. Janey Fricker +suffered with her, and for nearly a week they were all <i>en penitence</i>. +Then Miss Foster came; madame vanished without leave-taking, as if +liable to reappear at any instant, and lessons lapsed back into leisure. +Bessie felt that she had been an innocent scapegrace, and Harry very +venturesome; but she had so much enjoyed her "treat," and felt so much +the happier for it, that, all madame's grave displeasure +notwithstanding, she never was properly sorry.</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave returned to England as jubilant as he left Bessie. The +trip, winter though it was, exhilarated him. But it behooved him to be +serious when Mr. Carnegie was angry, and Mrs. Carnegie declared that she +did not know how to forgive him. If his escapade were made known to Mr. +Fairfax, the upshot might be a refusal to let Bessie revisit them at +Beechhurst throughout the whole continuance of her school-days. And that +was what came of it. Of course his escapade was communicated to Mr. +Fairfax, and Madame Fournier received a letter from Abbotsmead with the +intimation that the youth who had presented himself in the Rue St. Jean +as a cousin of Miss Fairfax was nothing akin to her, and that if she +could not be secured from his presumptuous intrusions there, she must be +removed from madame's custody. They had associated together as children, +but it was desirable to stay the progress of their unequal friendship as +they grew up; for the youth, though well conducted and clever, was of +mean origin and poor condition; so Mr. Fairfax was credibly informed. +And he trusted that Madame Fournier would see the necessity of a +decisive separation between them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>Madame did see the necessity. With Mr. Fairfax's letter came to her +hand another, a letter from the "youth" himself, but addressed to his +dear Bessie. That it should ever reach her was improbable. There was the +strictest quarantine for letters in the Rue St. Jean. Even letters to +and from parents passed through madame's private office. She opened and +read Harry Musgrave's as an obvious necessity, smiled over its boyish +exaggeration, and relished its fun at her own expense, for madame was a +woman of wisdom and humor. Little by little she had learnt the whole of +Bessie's life and conversation from her own lips; and she felt that +there was nothing to be feared from a lover of young Musgrave's type, +unless he was set on mischief by the premature interposition of +obstacles, of which this denial to Bessie of her Christmas holiday was +an example.</p> + +<p>However, madame had not to judge, but to act. She returned Harry +Musgrave his letter, with a polite warning that such a correspondence +with a girl at school was silly and not to be thought of. Harry blushed +a little, felt foolish, and put the document into the fire. Madame made +him confess to himself that he had gone to Caen as much for bravado as +for love of Bessie. Bessie never knew of the letter, but she cherished +her pretty romance in her heart, and when she was melancholy she thought +of the garden at Brook, and of the beeches by the stream where they had +sat and told their secrets on their farewell afternoon; and in her +imagination her dear Harry was a perfect friend and lover.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>That episode passed out of date. Bessie gave her mind to improvement. +Discovery was made that she had a sweet singing voice, and, late in the +day as it seemed to begin, she undertook to learn the piano, on the plea +that it would be useful if she could only play enough to accompany +herself in a song. She had her dancing-lessons, her drawing-lessons, and +as much study of grammars, dictionaries, histories, geographies, and +sciences-made-easy as was good for her, and every day showed her more +and more what a dunce she was. Madame, however, treated her as a girl +who had <i>des moyens</i>, and she was encouraged to believe that when she +had done <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>with school she would make as creditable a figure in the world +as most of her contemporaries.</p> + +<p>How far off her <i>début</i> might be no one had yet inquired. Since her late +experiences there was little certainty in Bessie's expectations of going +to Beechhurst for the long vacation which began in July. And it was +salutary that she entertained a doubt, for it mitigated disappointment +when it came. About a fortnight before the breaking up madame sent for +her one evening in to the <i>salon</i>, and with much consideration informed +her that it was arranged she should go with her to Bayeux and to the +sea, instead of going to England. Bessie had acquired the art of +controlling her feelings, and she accepted the fiat in silence. But she +felt a throb of vindictive rage against her grandfather, and said in her +heart that to live in a world where such men were masters, women ought +to be made of machinery. She refused to write to him, but she wrote home +to Beechhurst, and asked if any of them were coming to see her. But the +loving joint reply of her father and mother was that they thought it +better not.</p> + +<p>Madame Fournier was indulgent in holiday-time, and Bessie was better +pleased at Bayeux than she had thought it possible to be. The canon +proved to be the most genial of old clergymen. He knew all the romance +of French history, and gave Bessie more instruction in their peripatetic +lectures about that drowsy, ancient city than she could have learnt in a +year of dull books. Then there was Queen Matilda's famous tapestry to +study in the museum, a very retired, rustic nook, all embowered in +vines. Bessie also practised sketching, for Bayeux is rich in bits of +street scenery—gables, queer windows, gateways, flowery balconies. And +she was asked into society with madame, and met the gentlefolks who kept +their simple, retired state about the magnificent cathedral. Before +Bayeux palled she was carried off to Luc-sur-Mer, the canon going too, +also in the care of madame his niece.</p> + +<p>Bessie's regret next to that for home was for the loneliness of Janey +Fricker, left with Miss Foster in the Rue St. Jean. She wished for Janey +to walk with her in the rough sea-wind, to bathe with her, and talk with +her. One morning when the sun was glorious on the dancing waves, she +cried out her longing for her little friend. The next day Janey arrived +by the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>diligence. Mr. Fairfax had given madame <i>carte blanche</i> for the +holiday entertainment of his granddaughter, and madame was glad to be +able to content her so easily. Luc-sur-Mer is not a place to be +enthusiastic about. Its beauty is moderate—a shelving beach, a +background of sand-hills, and the rocky reef of Calvados. The canon took +his gentle paces with a broad-brimmed abbé from Avranches, and madame +was happy in the society of a married sister from Paris. The two girls +did as they pleased. They were very fond of one another, and this +sentiment is enough for perfect bliss at their age. Bessie had never +wavered in her protecting kindness to Janey, and Janey served her now +with devotion, and promised eternal remembrance and gratitude.</p> + +<p>When a fortnight came to an end at Luc-sur-Mer, Bessie returned to +Bayeux, and Janey went back to the Rue St. Jean. Before the school +reopened came into port at Caen the Petrel, and John Fricker, the +master-mariner, carried away his daughter. Janey left six lines of +hasty, tender adieu with Miss Foster for her friend, but no address. She +only said that she was "Going to sail with father."</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<h3><i>IN COURSE OF TIME.</i></h3> + +<p>For days, weeks, months the memory of lost Janey Fricker haunted Bessie +Fairfax with a sweet melancholy. She missed her little friend +exceedingly. She did not doubt that Janey would write, would return, and +even a year of silence and absence did not cure her of regret and +expectation. She was of a constant as well as a faithful nature, and had +a thousand kind pleas and excuses for those she loved. It was impossible +to believe that Janey had forgotten her, but Janey made no sign of +remembrance.</p> + +<p>Time and change! Time and change! How fast they get over the ground! how +light the traces they leave behind them! At the next Christmas recess +there was a great exodus of English girls. The Miss Hiloes went, and +they had no successors. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>When Bessie wanted to talk of Janey and old +days, she had to betake herself to Miss Foster. There was nobody else +left who remembered Janey or her own coming to school.</p> + +<p>As the time went on letters from Beechhurst were fewer and farther +between; letters from Brook she had none, nor any mention of Harry +Musgrave in her mother's. Her grandfather desired to wean her from early +associations, and a mixture of pride and right feeling kept the +Carnegies from whatever could be misconstrued into a wish to thwart him. +No one came to see her from the Forest after that rash escapade of Harry +Musgrave's. Her eighteenth birthday passed, and she was still kept at +school both in school-time and holidays.</p> + +<p>Madame Fournier, the genial canon, the kind <i>curé</i>, a few English +acquaintances at Caen, a few French acquaintances at Bayeux, were very +good to her. Especially she liked her visits to the canon's house in +summer. Often, as the long vacation of her third year at Caen +approached, she caught herself musing on the probability of her recall +to England with a reluctancy full of doubts and fears. She had been so +long away that she felt half forgotten, and when madame announced that +once more she was to spend the autumn under her protection, she heard it +without remonstrance, and, for the moment, with something like relief. +But afterward, when the house was silent and the girls were all gone, +the unbidden tears rose often to her eyes, and the yearning of +home-sickness came upon her as strongly as in the early days of her +exile.</p> + +<p>Bayeux is a <i>triste</i> little city, and in hot weather a perfect sun-trap +between its two hills. The river runs softly hidden amongst willows, and +the dust rises in light clouds with scarce a breath of air. Yet glimpses +of cool beautiful green within gates and over stone walls refresh the +eyes; vines drape the placid rustic nook that calls itself the library; +every other window in the streets is a garland or a posy, and through +the doors ajar show vistas of oleanders, magnolias, pomegranates +flowering in olive-wood tubs, and making sweet lanes and hedges across +tiled courts to the pleasant gloom of the old houses.</p> + +<p>Canon Fournier's house was in the neighborhood of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>cathedral, and as +secluded, green, and garlanded as any. Oftentimes in the day his man +Launcelot watered the court-yard in agreeable zigzags. Bessie Fairfax, +when she heard the cool tinkle of the shower upon the stones, always +looked out to share the refreshment. The canon's <i>salon</i> was a double +room with a <i>portière</i> between. Two windows <i>gave</i> upon the court and +two upon a shaded, paved terrace, from which a broad flight of steps +descended to the garden. The domain of the canon's housekeeper was at +one end of this terrace, and there old Babette sat in the cool shelling +peas, shredding beans, and issuing orders to Margot in the sultry +atmosphere of the kitchen stove. Bessie, alone in the <i>salon</i> one August +morning, heard the shrill monotone of her voice in the pauses of a +day-dream. She had dropped her book because, try as she would to hold +her attention to the story, her thoughts lost themselves continually, +and were found again at every turning of the page astray somewhere about +the Forest—about home.</p> + +<p>"It is very strange! I cannot help thinking of them. I wonder whether +anything is happening?" she said, and yielded to the subtle influence. +She began to walk to and fro the <i>salon</i>. She went over in her mind many +scenes; she recollected incidents so trivial that they had been long ago +forgotten—how Willie had broken the wooden leg of little Polly's new +Dutch doll (for surgical practice), and how Polly had raised the whole +house with her lamentations. And then she fell to reckoning how old the +boys would be now and how big, until suddenly she caught herself +laughing through tears at that cruel pang of her own when, after +submitting to be the victim of Harry Musgrave's electrical experiments, +he had neglected to reward her with the anticipated kiss. "I wonder +whether he remembers?—girls remember such silly things." In this fancy +she stood still, her bright face addressed towards the court. Through +the trees over the wall appeared the gray dome of the cathedral. +Launcelot came sauntering and waving his watering-can. The stout figure +of the canon issued from the doorway of a small pavilion which he called +his <i>omnibus</i>, passed along under the shadow of the wall, and out into +the glowing sun. Madame entered the <i>salon</i>, her light quick steps +ringing on the <i>parquet</i>, her holiday voice <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>clear as a carol, her +holiday figure gay as a showy-plumaged bird.</p> + +<p>"Ma chérie, tu n'es pas sortie? tu ne fais rien?"</p> + +<p>Bessie awoke from her reverie, and confessed that she was idle this +morning, very idle and uncomfortably restless: it was the heat, she +thought, and she breathed a vast sigh. Madame invited her to <i>do</i> +something by way of relief to her <i>ennui</i>, and after a brief considering +fit she said she would go into the cathedral, where it was the coolest, +and take her sketching-block.</p> + +<p>Oh, for the moist glades of the Forest, for the soft turf under foot and +the thick verdure overhead! Bessie longed for them with all her heart as +she passed upon the sun-baked stones to the great door of the cathedral. +The dusk of its vaulted roof was not cool and sweet like the arching of +green branches, but chill with damp odors of antiquity. She sat down in +one of the arcades near the portal above the steps that descend into the +nave. The immense edifice seemed quite empty. The perpetual lamp burned +before the altar, and wandering echoes thrilled in the upper galleries. +Through a low-browed open door streamed across the aisle a flood of +sunshine, and there was the sound of chisel and mallet from the same +quarter, the stone-yard of the cathedral; but there was no visible +worshipper—nothing to interrupt her mood of reverie.</p> + +<p>For a long while, that is. Presently chimed in with the music of chisel +and mallet the ring of eager young footsteps outside, young men's +footsteps, voices and dear English speech. One was freely translating +from his guide-book: "The cathedral, many times destroyed, was rebuilt +after the fire of 1106, and not completed until the eighteenth century. +It is therefore of several styles. The length is one hundred and two +mètres and the height twenty-three mètres from floor to vault."</p> + +<p>Bessie's breath came and went very fast; so did the blood in her cheeks. +Surely that voice she knew. It was Harry Musgrave's voice, and this was +why thoughts of the Forest had haunted her all the morning.</p> + +<p>The owner of the voice entered, and it was Harry Musgrave—he and two +others, all with the fresh air of British tourists <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>not long started on +their tour, knapsack on back and walking-stick in hand. They pulled off +their gray wideawakes and stared about, lowering their manly tones as +they talked; stood a few minutes considering the length, breadth, +height, and beauty of general effect in the nave and the choir, and then +descended the steps, and in the true national spirit of inquiry walked +straight to the stream of sunshine that revealed a door opening into +some place unseen. Bessie, sitting in retired shade, escaped their +observation. She laughed to herself with an inexpressible gladness. It +was certainly not by accident that Harry was here. She would have liked +to slip along the aisle in his shadow, to have called him by his name, +but the presence of his two unknown companions, and some diffidence in +herself, restrained her until the opportunity was gone, and he +disappeared, inveigled by the sacristan into making the regular tour of +the building. She knew every word he would hear, every antiquity he +would admire. She saw him in the choir turning over the splendid +manuscript books of Holy Writ and of the Mass which were in use in the +church when the kings of England were still dukes of Normandy; saw him +carried off into the crypt where is shown the pyx of those long-ago +times, a curious specimen of mediæval work in brass; and after that she +lost him.</p> + +<p>Would they climb the dome, those enterprising young men? Bessie took it +for granted that they would. But she must see dear Harry again; and oh +for a word with him! Perhaps he would seek her out—he might have learnt +from her mother where she was at Bayeux—or perhaps he would not <i>dare</i>? +Not that Harry's character had ever lacked daring where his wishes were +concerned; still, recollecting the trouble that had come of his former +unauthorized visit, he might deny himself for her sake. It was not +probable, and Bessie would not have bidden him deny himself; she would +willingly go through the same trouble again for the same treat. Why had +she not taken courage to arrest his progress? How foolish, how heartless +it would appear to-morrow if the chance were not renewed to her to-day! +She would not have done so silly a thing three years ago—her impulse to +follow him, to call out his name, would have been irresistible—but now +she felt shy of him. A plague on her shyness!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>Bessie's little temper had the better of her for a minute or two. She +was very angry with herself, would never forgive herself, she said, if +by her own trivial fault she had thrown away this favor of kind Fortune. +What must she do, what could she do, to retrieve her blunder? Where seek +for him? How find him? She quivered, grew hot and cold again with +excitement. Should she go to the Green Square?—he was sure to visit +that quarter. Then she remembered a high window in the canon's house +that commanded the open spaces round the cathedral; she would go and +watch from that high window. It was a long while before she arrived at +this determination; she waited to see if the strangers would return to +the beautiful chapter-house, to admire its fine tesselated floor and +carved stalls, and its chief treasure in the exquisite ivory crucifix of +the unfortunately famous princess De Lamballe; but they did not return, +and then she hastened home, lest she should be too late. Launcelot was +plying his water-can for the sixth time that morning when she entered +the court, and she stood in an angle of shadow to feel the air of the +light shower.</p> + +<p>"Here she is, and just the same as ever!" exclaimed somebody at the +<i>salon</i> window.</p> + +<p>Bessie was startled into a cry of joy. It was Harry Musgrave himself. +Madame Fournier had been honored with his society for quite half an hour +while his little friend was loitering and longing pensively in the +cathedral. All that lost, precious time! Bessie never recollected how +they met, or what they said to each other in the first moments, but +Babette, who witnessed the meeting through the glass door at the end of +the hall which opened on the terrace, had a firm belief ever afterward +that the English ladies and gentlemen embrace with a kiss after +absence—a sign whether of simplicity or freedom of manners, she could +not decide; so she wisely kept her witness to herself, being a sage +person and of discreet experiences.</p> + +<p>They returned into the <i>salon</i> together. It was full of the perfume of +roses, of the wavering shadow of leaves on the floor and walls and +ceiling. It looked bright and pretty, and madame, with suave benignity, +explained: "I told Mr. Musgrave that it was better to wait here, and not +play hide-and-seek; Bessie was sure to come soon."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>"I saw you in the cathedral, Harry; you passed close by me. It was so +difficult not to cry out!"</p> + +<p>"You saw me in the cathedral, and did not run up to me? Oh, Bessie!"</p> + +<p>"There were two other gentlemen with you." Bessie, though conscious of +her wickedness, saw no harm in extenuating it.</p> + +<p>"If there had been twenty, what matter? Would I have let you pass me? If +I had not found courage to seek you here—and it required some courage, +and some perseverance, too—why, I should have missed you altogether."</p> + +<p>Bessie laughed: here were they sparring as if they had parted no longer +ago than yesterday! Then she blushed, and all at once they came to +themselves, and began to be graver and more restrained.</p> + +<p>"My friends are Fordyce and Craik; they have gone to study the Tapestry. +I said I would look in at it later with you, Bessie: I counted on you +for my guide," announced Harry with native assurance.</p> + +<p>Bessie launched a supplicatory glance at madame, then hazarded a +doubtful consent, which did not provoke a denial. After that they moved +to the garden-end of the <i>salon</i>, and seated themselves in friendly +proximity. Then Bessie asked to be told all about them at home. All +about them was not a long story. The doctor's family had not arrived at +the era of dispersion and changes; the three years that had been so +long, full, and important to Bessie had passed in his house like three +monotonous days. The same at Brook.</p> + +<p>"The fathers and mothers, yours and mine, are not an hour altered," +Harry Musgrave said. "The boys are grown. Jack is a sturdy little +ruffian, as you might expect; no boy in the Forest runs through so many +clothes as Jack—that's the complaint. There is a talk of sending him to +sea, and he is deep in Marryat's novels for preparation."</p> + +<p>"Poor Jack, he was a sad Pickle, but <i>so</i> affectionate! And Willie and +the others?" queried Bessie rather mournfully.</p> + +<p>Concerning Willie and the others there was a favorable account. Of all +Bessie's old friends and acquaintances not one was lost, not one had +gone away. But talk of them was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>only preliminary to more interesting +talk of themselves, modestly deferred, but well lingered over once it +was begun. Harry Musgrave could not tell Bessie too much—he could not +explain with too exact a precision the system of college-life, its +delights and drawbacks. He had been very successful; he had won many +prizes, and anticipated the distinction of a high degree—all at the +cost of work. One term he had not gone up to Oxford. The doctor had +ordered him to rest.</p> + +<p>"Still, you are not quite killed with study," said Bessie gayly, +rallying him. She thought the school-life of girls was as laborious as +the college-life of young men, with much fewer alleviations.</p> + +<p>"That was never my way. I can make a spurt if need be. But it is safer +to keep a steady, even pace."</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do for a profession, Harry? Have you made up +your mind yet?"</p> + +<p>Harry had made up his mind to win a fellowship at Oxford, and then to +enter himself at one of the Inns of Court and read for the bar. For +physic and divinity he had no taste, but the law would suit him. Bessie +was ineffably depressed by this information: what romance is there in +the law for the imagination of eighteen? If Harry had said he was going +to throw himself on the world as a poor author, she would have bestowed +upon him a fund of interest and sympathy. To win a little of such +encouragement Harry added that while waiting for briefs he might be +forced to betake himself to the cultivation of light literature, of +journalism, or even of parliamentary reporting: many men, now of mark, +had done so. Then Bessie was better satisfied. "But oh what a prodigious +wig you will want!" was her rueful conclusion.</p> + +<p>"Have I such a Goliath head?" Harry inquired, rubbing his large hands +through his crisp, abundant locks. They were as much all in a fuzz as +ever, but his skin was not so gloriously tanned, and his hands were +white instead of umber. Bessie noticed them: they were whiter and more +delicate than her own.</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave had no conceit, but plenty of confidence, and he knew +that his head was a very good head. It had room for plenty of brains, +and Harry was of opinion that it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>is far more desirable to be born with +a fortune in brains than with the proverbial silver spoon in one's +mouth. He would have laughed to scorn the vulgar notion that to be born +in the purple or in a wilderness of money-bags is more than an +equivalent, and would have bid you see the little value God sets on +riches by observing the people to whom He gives them. Birth, he would +have granted, ensures a man a long step at starting, but unless he have +brains his rival without ancestors will pass him in the race for +distinction. This was young Musgrave's creed at three-and-twenty. He +expounded it to Bessie, who heard him with a puzzled perception of +something left out. Harry, like many another man at the beginning of +life, reckoned without the unforeseen.</p> + +<p>The sum of Bessie's experiences, adventures, opinions was not long. Her +mind had not matured at school as it would have done in the practical +education of home. She had acquired a graceful carriage and propriety of +behavior, and she had learned a little more history, with a few dates +and other things that are written in books; but of current literature +and current events, great or small, she had learned nothing. For +seclusion a French school is like a convent. She had a sense of humor +and a sense of justice—qualities not too common in the sex; and she had +a few liberal notions, the seed of which had been sown during her rides +with the doctor. They would probably outlive her memory for the shadowy +regions of chronology. Then she had a clear and strong sentiment with +regard to the oppressive manner in which her grandfather had exercised +his right and power over her, which gave a tincture to her social views +not the most amiable. She was confessedly happier with Madame Fournier +at Bayeux than she had any anticipation of being at Abbotsmead, but she +had nevertheless a feeling of injury in being kept in a state of +pupilage. She had wrought up her mind to expect a recall to England when +she was eighteen, and no recall had come. Harry Musgrave's inquiry when +she was to leave school brought a blush to her face. She was ashamed to +answer that she did not know.</p> + +<p>"Lady Latimer should interfere for you," suggested Harry, who had not +received a lively impression of her lot.</p> + +<p>Bessie's countenance cleared with a flash, and her thoughts <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>were +instantly diverted to Fairfield and its gracious mistress—that bright +particular star of her childish imagination: "Oh, Harry, have you made +friends with Lady Latimer?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"I have not been to her house, because she has never asked me since that +time I despised her commands, but we have a talk when we meet on the +road. Her ladyship loves all manner of information, and is good enough +to take an interest in my progress. I know she takes an interest in it, +because she recollects what I tell her—not like our ascetic parson, who +forgets whether I am at Balliol or Oriel, and whether I came out first +class or fourth in moderations."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could meet Lady Latimer on the road or anywhere! Seeing you +makes me long to go home, Harry," said Bessie with a sigh. Harry +protested that she ought to go home, and promised that he would speak +about it—he would go to Fairfield immediately on his return to the +Forest, and beg Lady Latimer to intercede in her behalf. Bessie had a +doubt whether this was a judicious plan, but she did not say so. The +hope of deliverance, once admitted into her mind, overcame all +perplexities.</p> + +<p>A little while and the canon came in glowing hot. "<i>Pouf!</i>" and he wiped +his rubicund, round visage with a handkerchief as brilliant. Coming +straight from the glare out of doors, he was not aware of the stranger +in the <i>salon</i> till his eyes were used to the gloom. Then madame and +Bessie effected Harry's introduction, and as Harry, with a rare wisdom, +had practised colloquial French, he and the canon were soon acquainted. +Once only had the old man visited England, a visit for ever memorable on +account of the guinea he had paid for his first dinner in London.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, they took you for an archbishop or for a monsigneur," said +Harry, when the old story of this cruel extortion was recited to him. +The canon was pleased. This explanation gave a color of flattery to his +infamous wrong. And madame thought her brother had quite <i>l'air noble</i>.</p> + +<p>Babette summoned them to <i>dejeuner</i>. Harry stayed gladly at a hint of +invitation. Across the table the two young people had a full view of +each other, and satisfied their eyes with gazing. Bessie looked lovely +in her innocent delight, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>and Harry had now a maturer appreciation of +her loveliness. He himself had more of the student aspect, and an air of +lassitude, which he ascribed, as he had been instructed, to overstrain +in reading for the recent examinations. This was why he had come +abroad—the surest way of taking mental rest and refreshment. +Incidentally he mentioned that he had given up boating and athletic +exercises, under Mr. Carnegie's direction. Bessie only smiled, and +reflected that it was odd to hear of Harry Musgrave taking care of +himself. One visitor from England on a day would have been enough, but +by a curious coincidence, as they sat all at ease, through the open +window from the court there sounded another English voice, demanding +Madame Fournier and Miss Fairfax.</p> + +<p>"Who can it be?" said Bessie, and she craned her fair neck to look, +while a rosy red suffused her face from chin to brow.</p> + +<p>The canon and madame laid down their knives and forks to listen, and +involuntarily everybody's eyes turned upon Harry. He could not forbear a +smile and a glance of intelligence at Bessie; for he had an instant +suspicion that this new-comer was an emissary from Mr. Fairfax, and from +her agitation so had she. Launcelot held a short, prompt parley at the +gate, then Babette intervened, and next was audible the advance of a +firm, even step into the hall, and the closing of the <i>salon</i> door. +"Encore un beau monsieur pour mademoiselle," announced the housekeeper, +and handed in a card inscribed with the name of "Mr. Cecil Burleigh," +and a letter of introduction from Mr. Fairfax.</p> + +<p>Bessie's heart went pit-a-pat while madame read the letter, and Harry +feared that he would probably have to find his way to the Tapestry +without a guide. Madame's countenance was inscrutable, but she said to +Bessie, "Calme-toi, mon enfant," and finished her meal with extreme +deliberation. Then with a perfect politeness, and an utter oblivion of +the little arrangement for a walk to the library that Harry and Bessie +had made, she gave him his <i>congé</i> in the form of a hope that he would +never fail to visit her when he found himself at Caen or Bayeux. Harry +accepted it with a ready apprehension of the necessity for his +dismissal, and without alluding to the Tapestry made his respectful +acknowledgments to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>madame and the canon preparatory to bidding Bessie +farewell.</p> + +<p>Under the awning over the <i>perron</i> they said their good-byes. Bessie, +frank-hearted girl, was disappointed even to the glittering of tears. +"It has been very pleasant. I am so happy you came!" whispered she with +a tremor.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, dear little Bessie! Give me this for a keepsake," said +Harry, and took a white, half-blown rose which she wore in the bosom of +her pretty dress of lilac <i>percale</i>. She let him have it. Then they +stood for a minute face to face and hand in hand, but the delicate +perplexities of Babette, spying through her glass door, were not +increased by a kiss at parting. And the young man seemed to rush away at +last in sudden haste.</p> + +<p>"Montes dans ta chambre quelques instants, Bessie," said the voice of +madame. And then with a gentle, decorous dignity she entered the +<i>salon</i>.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>When madame entered the <i>salon</i>, Mr. Cecil Burleigh was standing at one +of the windows that <i>gave</i> upon the court. He witnessed the departure of +Harry Musgrave, and did not fail to recognize an Englishman in the best +made of English clothes. The reader will probably recognize <i>him</i> as one +of the guests at the Fairfield wedding, who had shown some attention to +Bessie Fairfax on her grandfather's introduction of him as a neighbor of +his in Woldshire. He was now at Bayeux by leave of Mr. Fairfax, to see +the young lady and take the sense of her opinions as to whether she +would prefer to remain another year at school, or to go back to England +in ten days under his escort. The interval he was on his way to spend in +Paris—on a private errand for the government, to a highly honorable +member of which he was private secretary.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax's letter to madame announced in simple terms the object of +Mr. Cecil Burleigh's mission to Bayeux, and as the gentleman recited it +by word of mouth she grew freezingly formal. To lose Bessie would be a +loss that she had been treating as deferred. Certainly, also, the ways +of the English are odd! To send the young lady on a two days' journey +with this strange gentleman, who was no relative, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>was impossible. So +well brought up as Bessie had been since she came to Caen, she would +surely refuse the alternative, and decide to remain at school. Madame +replied to the announcement that Miss Fairfax would appear in a few +minutes, and would of course speak for herself. But Bessie was in no +haste to meet the envoy from Kirkham after parting with her beloved +Harry, and when a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and there was still no +sign of her coming, Babette was despatched to the top of the house to +bring her down to the interview.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh had taken a chair opposite the door, and he watched +for its reopening with a visible and vivid interest. It opened, and +Bessie walked in with that stately erectness of gait which was +characteristic of the women of her race. "As upright as a Fairfax," was +said of them in more senses than one. She was blushing, and her large +dark blue eyes had the softness of recent tears. She curtseyed, +school-girl fashion, to her grandfather's envoy, and her graceful proud +humility set him instantly at a distance. His programme was to be +lordly, affable, tenderly patronizing, but his dark cheek flushed, and +self-possessed as he was, both by nature and habit, he was suddenly at a +loss how to address this stiff princess about whom he had expected to +find some rags of Cophetua still hanging. But the rags were all gone, +and the little gypsy of the Forest was become a lady.</p> + +<p>Madame intervened with needful explanations. Bessie comprehended the +gist of the embassage very readily. She must take heart for an immediate +encounter with her grandfather and all her other difficulties, or she +must resign herself to a fourth year of exile and of school. Her mind +was at once made up. Since the morning—how long ago it seemed!—an +ardent wish to return to England had begun to glow in her imagination. +She wanted her real life to begin. These dull, monotonous school-days +were only a prelude which had gone on long enough. Therefore she said, +with brief consideration, that her choice would be to return home.</p> + +<p>"To Kirkham understand, <i>ma chérie</i>, not to Beechhurst," said madame +softly, warningly.</p> + +<p>"To Kirkham, so be it! Sooner or later I must go there," answered Bessie +with brave resignation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>Mr. Cecil Burleigh was apparently gratified by the young lady's +consent, abrupt though it was. But madame's countenance fell. She was +deeply disappointed at this issue. Apart from her pecuniary interest in +Bessie, which was not inconsiderable, Bessie had become a source of +religious concern to influential persons. And there was a favorite +nephew of madame's, domiciled in Paris, about whom visionary schemes had +been indulged, which now all in a moment vanished. This young nephew was +to have come with his mother to Étretât only a week hence, and there the +canon and Madame Fournier were to have joined them, with the beautiful +English girl committed to their charge. It was now good-bye to all such +plots and plans.</p> + +<p>Bessie perceived from her face that madame was distressed, but she did +not know all the reasons why. Madame had been very good to her, and +Bessie felt sorry; but to leave school for home was such a natural, +inevitable episode in the course of life in the Rue St. Jean that, +beyond a momentary regret, she had no compunction. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +proceeded to lay open his arrangements. He was on his road to Paris, +where he might be detained from ten to fifteen days, but madame should +receive a letter from him when the precise time of his return was fixed. +After he had spoken to this effect he rose to take leave, and Bessie, +blushing as she heard her own voice, originated her first remark, her +first question:</p> + +<p>"My grandfather hardly knows me. Does he expect my arrival at Kirkham +with pleasure, or would he rather put it off for another year?" Madame +thought she was already wavering in her determination.</p> + +<p>"I am sure that when I have written to him he will expect your arrival +with the <i>greatest</i> pleasure," replied Mr. Cecil Burleigh with kind +emphasis, retaining Bessie's hand for a moment longer than was +necessary, and relinquishing it with a cordial shake.</p> + +<p>Bessie's blushes did not abate at the compliment implied in his answer +and in his manner: he had been favorably impressed, and would send to +Abbotsmead a favorable report of her. When he was gone she all in a +moment recollected when and where she had seen him before, and wondered +that he had not reminded her of it; but perhaps he had forgotten <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>too? +She soon let go that reminiscence, and with a light heart, in +anticipation of the future which had appeared in the distance so +unpropitious, she talked of it to madame with a thousand random +speculations, until madame was tired of the subject. And then she talked +of it to Babette, who having no private disappointments in connection +therewith, proved patiently and sympathetically responsive.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Bessie, "we shall go down the river to Havre, and then +we shall cross to Hampton. I shall send them word at home, and some of +them are sure to come and meet me there."</p> + +<p>The letter was written and despatched, and in due course of post arrived +an answer from Mr. Carnegie. He would come to Hampton certainly, and his +wife would come with him, and perhaps one of the boys: they would come +or go anywhere for a sight of their dear Bessie. But, fond, affectionate +souls! they were all doomed to disappointment. Mr. Cecil Burleigh wrote +earlier than was expected that he had intelligence from Kirkham to the +effect that Mr. Frederick Fairfax would be at Havre with his yacht on or +about a certain day, that he would come to Caen and himself take charge +of his niece, and carry her home by sea—to Scarcliffe understood, for +Kirkham was full twenty miles from the coast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how sorry I am! how sorry they will be in the Forest!" cried +Bessie. "Is there no help for it?"</p> + +<p>Madame was afraid there was no help for it—nothing for it but +submission and obedience. And Bessie wrote to revoke all the cheerful +promises and prospects that she had held out to her friends at +Beechhurst.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>BESSIE LEARNS A FAMILY SECRET.</i></h3> + +<p>Canon Fournier went to Étretât by himself, for madame was bound to +escort her pupil to Caen, to prepare her for her departure to England, +and with her own hands to remit her into those of her friends. Caen is +suffocatingly hot in Au<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>gust—dusty, empty, dull. Mr. Frederick +Fairfax's beautiful yacht, the Foam, was in port at Havre, but it was +understood that a week would elapse before it could be ready to go to +sea again. It had met with some misadventure and wanted repairs. Mr. +Frederick Fairfax came on to Caen, and presented himself in the Rue St. +Jean, where he saw Bessie in the garden. Two chairs were brought out for +them, and they sat and talked to the tinkle of the old fountain. It was +not much either had to say to the other. The gentleman was absent and +preoccupied, like a person accustomed to solitude and long silence; even +while he talked he gave Bessie the impression of being half lost in +reverie. He bore some slight resemblance to his father, and his fair +hair and beard were whitening already, though he appeared otherwise in +the prime of life.</p> + +<p>The day after her uncle's visit there came to Bessie a sage, matronly +woman to offer her any help or information she might need in prospect of +sea-adventures. Mrs. Betts was to attend upon her on board the yacht; +she had decisive ways and spoke like a woman in authority. When Bessie +hesitated she told her what to do. She had been in charge of Mr. +Frederick Fairfax's unfortunate wife during a few weeks' cruise along +the coast. The poor lady was an inmate of the asylum of the Bon Sauveur +at Caen. The Foam had been many times into the port on her account +during Bessie's residence in the Rue St. Jean, but, naturally enough, +Mr. Frederick Fairfax had kept his visits from the knowledge of his +school-girl niece. Now, however, concealment might be abandoned, for if +the facts were not communicated to her here, she would be sure to hear +them at Kirkham. And Mrs. Betts told her the pitiful story. Bessie was +inexpressibly awed and shocked at the revelation. She had not heard a +whisper of the tragedy before.</p> + +<p>One evening in the cool Bessie walked with Miss Foster up the wide +thoroughfare, at the country end of which are the old convent walls and +gardens which enclose the modern buildings of the Bon Sauveur. They were +not a dozen paces from the gates when the wicket was opened by a sister, +and Mr. Frederick Fairfax came out. Bessie's face flushed and her eyes +filled with tears of compassion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>"You know where I have been, then, Elizabeth?" said he—"to visit my +poor wife. She seems happier in her little room full of birds and +flowers than on the yacht with me, yet the good nuns assure me she is +the better for her sea-trip. The nuns are most kind."</p> + +<p>Bessie acquiesced, and Miss Foster remarked that it was at the Bon +Sauveur gentle usage of the insane had first superseded the cruel old +system of restraints and terror. Mr. Frederick Fairfax shivered, stood a +minute gazing dejectedly into space, and then walked on.</p> + +<p>"He loves her," said Bessie, deeply touched. "I suppose death is a light +affliction in comparison with such a separation."</p> + +<p>The wicket was still open, the sister was still looking out. There was a +glimpse of lofty houses, open windows, grapevines rich in purple +clusters on the walls, and boxes of mignonette and gayer flowers upon +the window-sills. Miss Foster asked Bessie if she would like to see what +of the asylum was shown; and though Bessie's taste did not incline to +painful studies, before she had the decision to refuse she found herself +inside the gates and the sister was reciting her monotonous formula.</p> + +<p>These tall houses in a crescent on the court were occupied by +lady-boarders not suffering from mental alienation or any loss of +faculty, but from decayed fortunes. The deaf and dumb, the blind, the +crippled, epileptic, and insane had separate dwellings built apart in +the formal luxuriant gardens. "We have patients of all nations," said +the sister. "Strangers see none of these; there have been distressing +recognitions." Bessie was not desirous of seeing any. She breathed more +freely when she was outside the gates. It was a nightmare to imagine the +agonies massed within those walls, though all is done that skill and +charity can do for their alleviation.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>"You will not forget us: if ever you come back to Caen, you will not +forget us?" The speaker was little Mrs. Foster.</p> + +<p>Bessie had learned to love Mrs. Foster's crowded, minute <i>salon</i>, her +mixed garden of flowers and herbs; and she had learned to love the old +lady too, by reason of the kindnesses <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>she had done her and her +over-worked daughter. Mr. Fairfax had made his granddaughter an +allowance of pocket-money so liberal that she was never at a loss for a +substantial testimony of her gratitude to any one who earned it. And now +her farewell visits to all who had been kind to her were paid, and she +was surprised how much she was leaving that she regretted. The word had +come for her to be ready at a moment's call. The yacht was in the river, +her luggage was gone on board, and Mrs. Betts had completed her final +arrangements for the comfort of the young lady. Only Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was to wait for—that was the last news for Bessie: Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was to join the yacht, and to be carried to England with her.</p> + +<p>There were three days to wait. The time seemed long in that large vacant +house, that sunburnt secluded garden, that glaring silent court. Bessie +spent hours in the church. It was cool there, and close by if her +summons came. The good <i>curé</i> saw her often, and took no notice. She was +not devout. She was too facile, too philosophical of temper to have +violent preferences or aversions in religion. A less sober mind than +hers would have yielded to the gentle pressure of universal example, but +Bessie was not of those who are given to change. She would have made an +excellent Roman Catholic if she had been born and bred in that +communion, but she had disappointed everybody's pious hopes and efforts +for her conversion to it. She once said to the <i>curé</i> that holiness of +life was the chief thing, and she could not make out that it was the +monopoly of any creed or any sect, or any age of the world. He gave her +his blessing, and, not to acknowledge a complete defeat, he told Madame +Fournier that if the dear young lady met with poignant griefs and +mortifications, for which there were abundant opportunities in her +circumstances, he had expectations that she might then seek refuge and +consolation in the tender arms of the Church. Madame did not agree with +him. She had studied Bessie's character more closely, and believed that +whatever her trials, her strength would always suffice for her day, and +that whatever she changed she would not change her profession of faith +or deny her liberal and practical Protestant principles.</p> + +<p>There was hurry at the end, as in most departures, but it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>was soon +over, and then followed a delicious calm. The yacht was towed down the +river in the beautiful cool of the evening. A pretty awning shaded the +deck, and there Bessie dined daintily with her uncle and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh, and for the first time in her life was served with polite +assiduity. She looked very handsome and more coquettish than she had any +idea of in her white dress and red <i>capuchon</i>, but she felt shy at being +made so much of. She did not readily adapt herself to worship. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh had arrived from Paris only that afternoon, and had many +amusing things to tell of his pleasures and adventures there. He spoke +of Paris as one who loved the gay city, and seemed in excellent spirits. +If his mission had a political object, he must certainly have carried it +through with triumphant success; but his talk was of balls, <i>fêtes</i>, +plays and shows.</p> + +<p>After they had dined Bessie was left to her memories and musings, while +the gentlemen went pacing up and down the deck in earnest conversation. +It was a perfect evening. The sky was full of color, scarlet, rosy, +violet, primrose—changing, fading, flushing, perpetually. And before +all was gray the moon had risen and was shining in silver floods upon +the sea. In the mystery of moonshine Bessie lost sight of the phantom +poplars that fringe the Orne. The excitement of novelty and uncertainty +routed dull thoughts, and her fancy pruned its wings for a flight into +the future. In the twilight came Mrs. Betts, and cut short the flight of +fancy with prosy suggestions of early retirement to rest. It was easy to +retire, but not so easy to sleep. Bessie's mind was astir. It became +retrospective. She went over the terrors of her first coming to Caen, +the dinner at Thunby's, and the weird talk of Janey Fricker in the +<i>dortoir</i>, till melancholy overwhelmed her.</p> + +<p>Where was Janey? Was she still sailing with her father? No news of her +had ever come to the Rue St. Jean since the day she left it. It +sometimes crossed Bessie's mind that Janey was no longer in the land of +the living. At last, with the lulling, soft motion of a breezeless night +on the water, came oblivion and sleep too sound for dreams.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<h3><i>ON BOARD THE FOAM.</i></h3> + +<p>Life is continuous, so we say, but here and there events happen that +mark off its parts so sharply as almost to sever them. Awaking the next +morning in the tiny gilded cabin of the Foam was the signal of such an +event to Bessie Fairfax. She had put away childish things, and left them +behind her at Caen yesterday. To-day before her, across the Channel, was +a new world to be proved, and a cloudy revelation of the joys and +sorrows, the hopes and fears that nourish the imagination of blooming +adolescence. For a minute she did not realize where she was, and lay +still, with wide-open eyes and ears perplexed, listening to the wash of +the sea. There was a splendid sunshine, a sky blue as sapphire, and a +lovely green ripple of waves against the glass.</p> + +<p>The voice of Mrs. Betts brought her to herself: "I thought it best to +let you sleep your sleep out, miss. The sea-air does it. The gentlemen +have breakfasted two hours ago."</p> + +<p>Bessie was sorry and ashamed. It was with a penitent face she appeared +on deck. But she immediately discovered that this was not school: she +had entire liberty to please and amuse herself. Perhaps if her +imagination had been less engaged she might have found the voyage +tedious. Mrs. Betts told her there was no knowing when they should see +Scarcliffe—it depended on wind and weather and whims. The yacht was to +put in at Ryde to land Mr. Cecil Burleigh; and as the regattas were +going on, they might cruise off the Isle of Wight for a week, maybe, for +the master was never in a hurry. In Bessie's bower there was an +agreeable selection of novels, but she had many successive hours of +silence to dream in when she was tired of heroes and heroines. Mr. +Frederick Fairfax was the most taciturn of men, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was constantly busy with pens, ink, and paper. In the long course of the +day he did take shreds of leisure, but they were mostly devoted to +cigars and meditation. Bessie observed that he was older and graver +since that gay wedding at Fairfield—which of course he had a right to +be, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>for it was three years ago—but he was still and always a very +handsome and distinguished personage.</p> + +<p>In the <i>salon</i> of Canon Fournier at Bayeux, Bessie Fairfax had +disconcerted this fine gentleman, but now the tables were turned, and on +board the yacht he often disconcerted her—not of <i>malice prepense</i>, but +for want of due consideration. No doubt she was a little unformed, +ignorant girl, but her intuitive perceptions were quick, and she knew +when she was depreciated and misunderstood. On a certain afternoon he +read her some beautiful poetry under the awning, and was interested to +know whether she had any taste for poetry. Bessie confessed that at +school she had read only Racine, and felt shy of saying what she used to +read at home, and he dropped the conversation. He drew the conclusion +that she did not care for literature. At their first meeting it had +seemed as if they might become cordial friends, but she soon grew +diffident of this much-employed stranger, who always had the ill-luck to +discover to her some deficiency in her education. The effect was that by +the time the yacht anchored off Ryde, she had lost her ease in his +society, and had become as shy as he was capricious, for she thought him +a most capricious and uncertain person in temper and demeanor.</p> + +<p>Yet it was not caprice that influenced his behavior. He was quite +unconscious of the variableness that taxed her how to meet it. He +approved of Bessie: he admired her—face, figure, air, voice, manner. He +judged that she would probably mature into a quiet and loving woman of +no very pronounced character, and there was a direct purpose in his mind +to cultivate her affection and to make her his wife. He thought her a +nice girl, sweet and sensible, but she did not enchant him. Perhaps he +was under other magic—under other magic, but not spell-bound beyond his +strength to break the charm.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh was a man of genius and of soaring +ambition—well-born, well-nurtured, but as the younger son of a younger +son absolutely without patrimony. At his school and his university he +had won his way through a course of honors, and he would disappoint all +who knew him if he did not revive the traditions of his name and go onto +achieve place, power, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>fame. To enter Parliament was necessary for +success in the career he desired to run, and the first step towards +Parliament for a poor young man was a prudent marriage into a family of +long standing, wide connection, and large influence in their county—so +competent authorities assured him—and all these qualifications had the +Fairfaxes of Kirkham, with a young heiress sufficiently eligible, +besides, to dispose of. The heads on each side had spoken again, and in +almost royal fashion had laid the lines for an alliance between their +houses. When Mr. Cecil Burleigh took Caen in his road to Paris, it was +with the distinct understanding that if Elizabeth Fairfax pleased him +and he succeeded in pleasing her, a marriage between them would crown +the hopes of both their families.</p> + +<p>The gentleman had not taken long to decide that the lady would do. And +now they were on the Foam together he had opportunities enough of +wooing. He availed himself of a courtly grace of manner, with sometimes +an air of worship, which would have been tenderness had he felt like a +lover. Bessie was puzzled, and grew more and more ill at ease with him. +Absorbed in work, in thought, or in idle reverie and smoke, he appeared +natural and happy; he turned his attention to her, and was gay, +gracious, flattering, but all with an effort. She wished he would not +give himself the trouble. She hated to be made to blush and stammer in +her talk; it confused her to have him look superbly in her eyes; it made +her angry to have him press her hand as if he would reassure her against +a doubt.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, the time was not long, for they began to bore one another +immensely. It was an exquisite morning when they anchored opposite Ryde, +and the first day of the annual regatta. At breakfast Mr. Cecil Burleigh +quietly announced that he would now leave the yacht, and make his way +home in a few days by the ordinary conveyances. Mr. Frederick Fairfax, +who was a consenting party to the family arrangement, suggested that +Bessie might like to go on shore to see the town and the charming +prospect from the pier and the strand. Mr. Cecil Burleigh did not second +the suggestion promptly enough to avoid the suspicion that he would +prefer to go alone; and Bessie, who had a most sensitive reluctance to +be where she was not wanted, made haste to say that she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>did not care to +land—she was quite satisfied to see the town from the water. Thereupon +the gentleman pressed the matter with so much insistance that, though +she would much rather have foregone the pleasure than enjoy it under his +escort, she found no polite words decisive enough for a refusal.</p> + +<p>A white sateen dress embroidered in black and red, and a flapping +leghorn hat tied down gypsy style with a crimson ribbon, was a +picturesque costume, but not orthodox as a yachting costume at Ryde. +Bessie had a provincial French air in spite of her English face, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh perhaps regretted that she was not more suitably equipped +for making her <i>début</i> in his company. He had a prejudice against +peculiarity in dress, and knew that it was a terrible thing to be out of +the fashion and to run the gauntlet of bold eyes on Ryde pier. At the +seaside the world is idle, and has nothing to do but stare and +speculate. Bessie had beauty enough to be stared at for that alone, but +it was not her beauty that attracted most remark; it was her cavalier +and the singularity of her attire. Poor child! with her own industrious +fingers had she lavishly embroidered that heathen embroidery. The +gentlemen were not critically severe; the ladies looked at her, and +looked again for her escort's sake, and wondered how this prodigiously +fine gentleman came to have foregathered with so outlandish a blushing +girl; for Bessie, when she perceived herself an object of curious +observation, blushed furiously under the unmitigated fire of their gaze. +And most heartily did she wish herself back again on board the Foam.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh had friends and acquaintances everywhere, and some +very dear friends at this moment at Ryde. That was why he ended his +yachting there. As he advanced with Bessie up the pier every minute +there was an arrest, a brisk inquiry, and a reply. At last a halt that +might have been a <i>rendezvous</i> occurred, finding of seats ensued, with +general introductions, and then a settling down on pretence of watching +the yachts through a glass. It was a very pretty spectacle, and Bessie +was left at liberty to enjoy it, and also to take note of the many gay +and fashionable folk who enrich and embellish Ryde in the season; for +Mr. Cecil <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>Burleigh was entirely engrossed with another person. The +party they had joined consisted of a very thin old gentleman, spruce, +well brushed, and well cared for; of a languid, pale lady, some thirty +years younger, who was his wife; and of two girls, their daughters. It +was one of these daughters who absorbed all Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +attention, and Bessie recognized her at once as that most beautiful +young lady to whom he had been devoted at the Fairfield wedding. His +meeting with her had quite transfigured him. He looked infinitely glad, +an expression that was reflected on her countenance in a lovely light of +joy. It was not necessary to be a witch to discern that there was an +understanding between these two—that they loved one another. Bessie saw +it and felt sympathetic, and was provoked at the recollection of her +foolish conceit in being perplexed by the gentleman's elaborate +courtesies to herself.</p> + +<p>The other sister talked to her. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner sat in silent +pensiveness, according to their wont, contemplating the boats on the +water. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Julia (he called her Julia) conversed +together in low but earnest tones. It seemed that they had much to +communicate. Presently they crossed the pier, and stood for ever so long +leaning over the railing. Bessie was not inquisitive, but she could take +a lively, unselfish interest in many matters that did not concern her. +When they turned round again she was somehow not surprised to see that +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had a constrained air, and that the shell-pink face +of the young lady was pale and distorted with emotion. Their joy and +gladness had been but evanescent. She came hastily to her mother and +said they would now go home to luncheon. On the way she and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh followed behind the rest, but they did not speak much, or spoke +only of common things.</p> + +<p>The Gardiners had a small house in a street turning up from the Strand, +a confined little house of the ordinary lodging-house sort, with a +handsbreadth of gravel and shrubs in front, and from the sitting-room +window up stairs a side-glance at the sea. From a few words that Mr. +Gardiner dropped, Bessie learned that it was theirs for twelve months, +until the following June; that it was very dear, but the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>cheapest place +they could get in Ryde fit to put their heads into; also that Ryde was +chosen as their home for a year because it was cheerful for "poor papa."</p> + +<p>Here was a family of indigent gentility, servile waiters upon the +accidents of Fortune, unable to work, but not ashamed to beg, as their +friends and kindred to the fourth degree could have plaintively +testified. It was a mystery to common folks how they lived and got +along. They were most agreeable and accomplished people, who knew +everybody and went everywhere. The daughters had taste and beauty. They +visited by turns at great houses, never both leaving their parents at +the same time; they wore pretty, even elegant clothing, and were always +ready to assist at amateur concerts, private theatricals, church +festivals, and other cheerful celebrations. Miss Julia Gardiner's voice +was an acquisition at an evening party; her elder sister's brilliant +touch on the piano was worth an invitation to the most select +entertainment. And besides this, there are rich, kind people about in +the world who are always glad to give poor girls, who are also nice, a +little amusement. And the Miss Gardiners were popular; they were very +sweet-tempered, lady-like, useful, and charming.</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax was an admirer of beauty in her own sex, and she could +scarcely take her eyes from the winsome fair face of Julia. It was a +very fair face, very lovely. After luncheon, at Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +request, she sang a new song that was lying on the piano; and they +talked of old songs which he professed to like better, which she said +she had forgotten. Mr. Gardiner had not come up stairs, and Mrs. +Gardiner, who had, soon disappeared. It was a narrow little room made +graceful with a few plants and ornaments and the working tools of +ladies; novels from the library were on the table and on the couch. A +word spoken there could not be spoken in secret. By and by, Helen, the +elder sister, proposed to take Bessie to the arcade. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +demurred, but acceded when it was added that "mamma" would go with them. +Mamma went, a weary, willing sacrifice; and in the arcade and in +somebody's pretty verandah they spent the hot afternoon until six +o'clock. When they returned to the house, Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Julia +were still together, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>and the new song on the desk of the piano had not +been moved to make room for any other. The gentleman appeared annoyed, +the lady weary and dejected. Bessie had no doubt that they were lovers +who had roughnesses in the course of their true love, and she +sentimentally wished them good-speed over all obstacles.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh rose as they entered, and said he would walk down the +pier with Miss Fairfax to restore her to the yacht, and Mr. Gardiner +bade Julia put on her hat and walk with them—it would refresh her after +staying all the hot afternoon in-doors.</p> + +<p>The pier was deserted now. The gay crowd had disappeared, the regatta +was over for the day, and the band silent. The glare of sunshine had +softened to a delicate amber glow, and the water was smooth, translucent +as a lake. The three walked at a pace, but were overtaken and passed by +two ladies in dark blue-braided serge dresses that cleared the ground as +they walked and fitted close to very well made figures. Their hats were +black-glazed and low-crowned, with a narrow blue ribbon lettered "Ariel" +in white and gold.</p> + +<p>"Look at those ladies," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh, suddenly breaking off +his talk with Julia to speak to Bessie; "that is the proper yachting +costume. You must have one before you come to Ryde in the Foam again."</p> + +<p>Bessie blushed; perhaps he had been ashamed of her. This was a most +afflicting, humiliating notion. She was delighted to see the boat from +the yacht waiting to take her off. She had imagined her own dress both +pretty and becoming—she knew that it had cost her months of patient +embroidering. Poor Bessie! she had much to learn yet of the fitness of +things, and of things in their right places. Miss Gardiner treated her +as very young, and only spoke to her of her school, from which she was +newly but fully and for ever emancipated. Incidentally, Bessie learned a +bit of news concerning one of her early comrades there. "Ada Hiloe was +at Madame Fournier's at Caen. Was it in your time? Did you know her?" +she was asked, and when she said that she did, Mr. Cecil Burleigh added +for information that the young lady was going to be married; so he had +heard in Paris <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>from Mr. Chiverton. Julia instantly cried out, "Indeed! +to whom?"</p> + +<p>"To Mr. Chiverton himself."</p> + +<p>"That horrid old man! Oh, can it be true?"</p> + +<p>"He is very rich," was the quiet rejoinder, and both lapsed into +silence, until they had parted with their young companion.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh carefully enveloped Bessie in a cloak, Miss Gardiner +watching them. Then he bade her good-bye, with a reference to the +probability of his seeing her again soon at Abbotsmead. It was a +gracious good-bye, and effaced her slight discomfiture about her dress. +It even left her under the agreeable impression that he liked her in a +friendly way, his abrupt dicta on costume notwithstanding. A certain +amount of approbation from without was essential to Bessie's inner +peace. As the boat rowed off she waved her hand with rosy benignity to +the two looking after her departure. Mr. Cecil Burleigh raised his hat, +and they moved away.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h3> + +<h3><i>A LITTLE CHAPTER BY THE WAY.</i></h3> + +<p>It must not be dissimulated what very dear friends Mr. Cecil Burleigh +and Miss Julia Gardiner were. They had known and loved one another for +six years as neither was ever likely to love again. They had been long +of convincing that a marriage was impossible between two such poor young +people—the one ambitious, the other fond of pleasure. They suited to a +nicety in character, in tastes, but they were agreed, at last, that +there must be an end to their philandering. No engagement had ever been +acknowledged. The young lady's parents had been indulgent to their +constant affection so long as there was hope, and it was a fact +generally recognized by Miss Julia Gardiner's friends that she cared +very much for Mr. Cecil Burleigh, because she had refused two eligible +offers—splendid offers for a girl in her position. A third was now open +to her, and without being urgent or unkind her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>mother sincerely wished +that she would accept it. Since the morning she had made up her mind to +do so.</p> + +<p>If the circumstances of these two had been what Elizabeth Fairfax +supposed, they would have spent some blessed hours together before dusk. +They stayed on the pier, and they talked, not of their love—they had +said all their say of love—but of Mr. Cecil Burleigh's flattering +prospects. When he stated that his expectations of getting a seat in the +House of Commons were based on the good-will of the Fairfax family and +connections, Julia was silent for several minutes. Then she remarked in +a gentle voice that Miss Fairfax was a handsome girl. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +acquiesced, and added that she was also amiable and intelligent.</p> + +<p>After that they walked home—to the dull little house in the by street, +that is. Mr. Cecil Burleigh refused to go in; and when the door closed +on Julia's "Good-bye, Cecil, goodbye, dear," he walked swiftly away to +his hotel, with the sensations of a man who is honestly miserable, and +also who has not dined.</p> + +<p>Julia sat by the open window until very late in the hot night, and Helen +with her, comforting her.</p> + +<p>"No, the years have not been thrown away! If I live to grow old I shall +still count them the best years of my life," said she with a pathetic +resignation. "I may have been sometimes out of spirits, but much oftener +I have been happy; what other joy have I ever had than Cecil's love? I +was eighteen when we met at that ball—you remember, Nell! Dear Cecil! I +adored him from the first kind word he gave me, and what a thrill I felt +to-day when I saw him coming!"</p> + +<p>"And he is to come no more?" inquired Helen softly.</p> + +<p>"No more as of old. Of course we shall see one another as people do who +live in the same world: I am not going into a nunnery. Cecil will be a +great man some day, and I shall recollect with pride that for six years +he loved only <i>me</i>. He did not mention Mr. Brotherton: I think he has +heard, but if not, he will hear soon enough from other people. If we +were not so awfully poor, Nell, or if poverty were not so dreadful to +mamma, I <i>never</i> would marry—<i>never</i> while Cecil is a bachelor."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>This was how Julia Gardiner announced that she meant to succumb to the +pressure of circumstances. Helen kissed her thankfully. She had been +very anxious for this consummation. It would be a substantial, permanent +benefit to them all if Julia married Mr. Brotherton. He had said that it +should be so, and he was a gentleman of good estate, and as generous as +he was wealthy, though very middle-aged, a widower with six children, +and as a lover not interesting perhaps.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh also sat at an open window, but he was not provided +with a confessor, only with a cigar. He had dined, and did not feel so +intensely miserable as he felt an hour ago. "Dear little Julia!" He +thought of her with caressing tenderness, her pretty looks, her graceful +ways, her sweet affection. "There were tears in her dove's eyes when she +said 'Good-bye, Cecil, good-bye, dear!'" No other woman would ever have +his heart.</p> + +<p>They had both good sense, and did not rail at evil fortune. It had done +neither any mischief to be absorbed in love of the other through the +most passionate years of their lives. Mrs. Gardiner had remonstrated +often and kindly against their folly, but had put no decisive <i>veto</i> on +it, in the hope that they would grow out it. And, in a manner, they had +grown out of it. Six years ago, if they had been allowed, they would +have married without counting the cost; but those six years had brought +them experience of the world, of themselves, and of each other, and they +feared the venture. If Mr. Cecil Burleigh had been without ambition, his +secretaryship would have maintained them a modest home; but neither had +he a mind for the exclusive retired pleasures of the domestic hearth, +nor she the wish to forego the delights of society. There was no romance +in poverty for Julia Gardiner. It was too familiar; it signified to her +shifts, privations, expediencies, rude humiliations, and rebuffs. And +that was not the life for Mr. Cecil Burleigh. Their best friends said +so, and they acquiesced. From this it followed that the time was come +for them to part. Julia was twenty-four. The present opportunity of +settling herself by a desirable marriage lost, she might never have +another—might wear away youth, beauty, expectation, until no residuum +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>were left her but bitterness and regret. She would have risked it at a +word from Cecil, but that word was not spoken. He reasoned with himself +that he had no right to speak it. He was not prepared to give all for +love, though he keenly regretted what he resigned. He realized frankly +that he lost in losing Julia a true, warm sympathizer in his +aspirations, and a loving peace in his heart that had been a God's +blessing to him. Oh, if there had been only a little more money between +them!</p> + +<p>He reflected on many things, but on this most, and as he reflected there +came a doubt upon him whether it was well done to sever himself from the +dear repose he had enjoyed in loving her—whether there might not be a +more far-sighted prudence in marrying her than in letting her go. Men +have to ask their wives whether life shall be a success with them or +not. And Julia had been so much to him, so encouraging, such a treasure +of kindness! Whatever else he might win, without her he would always +miss something. His letters to her of six years were a complete history +of their course. Was it probable that he would ever be able to write so +to the rosy-cheeked little girl on board the Foam? Julia was equal with +him, a cultivated woman and a perfect companion.</p> + +<p>But what profit was there in going back upon it? They had determined +that it must not be. In a few days he was expected at Abbotsmead: +Norminster wanted to hear from him. A general election impended, and he +had been requested to offer himself as a candidate in the Conservative +interest for that ancient city. Mr. Fairfax was already busy in his +behalf, and Mr. John Short, the Conservative lawyer, was extremely +impatient for his appearance upon the stage of action.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<h3><i>A LOST OPPORTUNITY.</i></h3> + +<p>Ryde looked beautiful the next morning from the deck of the Foam. The +mainland looked beautiful too, and Bessie, gazing that way, thought how +near she was to the Forest, until an irresistible longing to be there +overcame her reserve. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>She asked her uncle if the Foam was going to lie +long off Ryde. Why did she inquire? Because she should like to go to +Hampton by the boat, and to Beechhurst to see her friends, if only for +one single night. Before her humble petition was well past her lips the +tears were in her eyes, for she saw that it was not going to be granted. +Mr. Frederick Fairfax never risked being put out of his way, or made to +wait the convenience of others on his yachting cruises. He simply told +Bessie that she could not go, and added no reason why. But almost +immediately after he sent her on shore with Mrs. Betts to Morgan's to +buy a proper glazed hat and to be measured for a serge dress: that was +his way of diverting and consoling her.</p> + +<p>Bessie was glad enough to be diverted from the contemplation of her +disappointment. It was a very great pain indeed to be so near, and yet +so cut off from all she loved. The morning was fresh on the pier, and +many people were out inhaling the delicious salt breezes. A clergyman, +wielding a slim umbrella and carrying a black bag and an overcoat, came +lurching along. Bessie recognized Mr. Askew Wiley, and was so overjoyed +to see anybody who came from home that she rushed up to him: "Oh, Mr. +Wiley! how do you do? Are you going back to Beechhurst?" she cried +breathless.</p> + +<p>"Bessie Fairfax, surely? How you are grown!" said he, and shook hands. +"Yes, Bessie, I am on my way now to catch the boat. If you want to hear +about your people, you must turn back with me, for I have not a minute +to spare."</p> + +<p>Bessie turned back: "Will you please tell them I am on board the Foam, +my uncle Frederick's yacht? I cannot get away to see them, and I don't +know how long we shall stay here, but if they could come over to see +me!" she urged wistfully.</p> + +<p>"It sounds like tempting them to a wild-goose chase, Bessie. Yachts that +are here to-day are gone to-morrow. By the time they arrive you may have +sailed off to Cowes or to Yarmouth. But I will give your message. How +came you on board a yacht?"</p> + +<p>Bessie got no more information from the rector; he had the same +catechising habit as his good wife, and wanted to know <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>her news. She +gave it freely, and then they were at the end of the pier, and there was +the Hampton boat ringing its bell to start. "Are you going straight +home? Will you tell them at once?" Bessie ventured to say again as Mr. +Wiley went down the gangway.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I expect to find the carriage waiting for me at Hampton," was the +response.</p> + +<p>"They might even come by the afternoon boat," cried Bessie as a last +word, and the rector said, "Yes."</p> + +<p>It was with a lightened heart and spirits exhilarated that Bessie +retraced her steps up the pier. "It was such a good opportunity!" said +she, congratulating herself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if the gentleman don't forget," rejoined Mrs. Betts.</p> + +<p>But, alas! that was just what the gentleman did. He forgot until his +remembering was too late to be of any purpose. He forgot until the next +Sunday when he was in the reading-desk, and saw Mrs. Carnegie sitting in +front of him with a restless boy on either hand. He felt a momentary +compunction, but that also, as well as the cause of it, went out of his +head with the end of his sermon, and the conclusion of the matter was +that he never delivered the message Bessie had given him on Ryde pier at +all.</p> + +<p>Bessie, however, having a little confidence in him, unwittingly enjoyed +the pleasures of hope all that day and the next. On the second evening +she was a trifle downhearted. The morning after she awoke with another +prospect before her eyes—a beautiful bay, with houses fringing its +shores and standing out on its cliffs, and verdure to the water's edge. +Mrs. Betts told her these villages were Sandown and Shanklyn. The yacht +was scudding along at a famous rate. They passed Luccombe with its few +cottages nestling at the foot of the chine, then Bonchurch and Ventnor. +"It would be very pleasant living at sea in fine weather, if only one +had what one wants," Bessie said.</p> + +<p>The following day the yacht was off Ryde again, and Bessie went to walk +on the pier in her close-fitting serge costume and glazed hat, feeling +very barefaced and evident, she assured Mrs. Betts, who tried to +convince her that the style of dress was exceedingly becoming to her, +and made her appear taller. Bessie was, indeed, a very pretty middle +height now, and her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>shining hair, clear-cut features, and complexion of +brilliant health constituted her a very handsome girl.</p> + +<p>Almost the first people she met were the Gardiners. "Mr. Cecil Burleigh +went to London this morning," Miss Julia told her. The elder sister +asked if she was coming to the flower-show in Appley Gardens in the +afternoon or the regatta ball that night.</p> + +<p>Bessie said, "No, oh, no! she had never been to a ball in her life."</p> + +<p>"But you might go with us to the flower-show," said Julia. She thought +it would please Mr. Cecil Burleigh if a little attention were shown to +Miss Fairfax.</p> + +<p>Bessie did not know what to answer: she looked at her strange clothing, +and said suddenly, No, she thanked them, but she could not go. They +quite understood.</p> + +<p>Just at that moment came bearing down upon them Miss Buff, fat, loud, +jolly as ever. "It <i>is</i> Bessie Fairfax! I was sure it was," cried she; +and Bessie rushed straight into her open arms with responsive joy.</p> + +<p>When she came to herself the Gardiners were gone. "Never mind, you are +sure to meet them again; they are always about Ryde somewhere," Miss +Buff said. "How delightful it is to see you, Bessie! And quite yourself! +Not a bit altered—only taller!" And then they found a sheltered seat, +and Bessie, still quivering with her happy surprise, began to ask +questions.</p> + +<p>"We have come from Beechhurst this morning, my niece Louy and myself," +was Miss Buff's answer to the first. "We started at six, to be in time +for the eight o'clock boat: the flower-show and the regatta ball have +brought us. I hope you are going to both? No? What a pity! I never miss +a ball for Louy if I can help it."</p> + +<p>Bessie briefly explained herself and her circumstances, and asked when +her friend had last seen any of Mr. Carnegie's family.</p> + +<p>"I saw Mrs. Carnegie yesterday to inquire if I could do anything for her +at Hampton. She looked very well."</p> + +<p>"And did she say nothing of me?" cried Bessie in consternation.</p> + +<p>"Not a word. She mentioned some time ago how sorry <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>they all were not to +have you at home for a little while before you are carried away to +Woldshire."</p> + +<p>"Then Mr. Wiley has never given them my message! Oh, how unkind!" Bessie +was fit to cry for vexation and self-reproach, for why had she not +written? Why had she trusted anybody when there was a post?</p> + +<p>"You might as well pour water into a sieve, and expect it to stay there, +as expect Mr. Wiley to remember anything that does not concern himself," +said Miss Buff. "But it is not too late yet, perhaps? When do you leave +Ryde?"</p> + +<p>"It is all uncertain: it is just as the wind blows and as my uncle +fancies," replied Bessie despondently.</p> + +<p>"Then write—write at once, and telegraph. Do both. There is Smith's +bookstall. They will let you have a sheet of paper, and I always carry +stamps." Miss Buff was prompt in action. Six lines were written for the +post and one line for the telegraph, and both were despatched in ten +minutes or less. "Now all is done that can be done to remedy yesterday +and ensure to-morrow: some of them are certain to appear in the morning. +Make your mind easy. Come back to our seat and tell me all about +yourself."</p> + +<p>Bessie's cheerfulness revived under the brisk influence of her friend, +and she was ready to give an epitome of her annals, or a forecast of her +hopes, or (which she much preferred) to hear the chronicles of +Beechhurst. Miss Buff was the best authority for the village politics +that she could have fallen in with. She knew everything that went on in +the parish—not quite accurately perhaps, but accurately enough for +purposes of popular information and gossip.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, Miss Thusy O'Flynn is gone, for one good thing," she +began with a <i>verve</i> that promised thoroughness. "And we are to have a +new organ in the church, for another: it has been long enough talked +about. Old Phipps set his face dead against it until we got the money in +hand; we have got it, but not until we are all at daggers drawn. He told +Lady Latimer that we ought to keep our liberal imaginations in check by +a system of cash payments."</p> + +<p>"Our friend has a disagreeable trick of being right," said Bessie +laughing.</p> + +<p>"He has his uses, but I cannot bear him. I don't know <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>who is to +blame—whether it is Miss Wort or Lady Latimer—but there is no peace at +Beechhurst now for begging. They have plenty of money, and little enough +to do with it. I call <i>giving</i> the greatest of luxuries, but, bless you! +giving is not all charity. Miss Wort spends a fortune in eleemosynary +physic to half poison poor folks; Lady Latimer indulges herself in a +variety of freaks: her last was a mechanical leg for old Bumpus, who had +been happy on a wooden peg for forty years; we were all asked to +subscribe, and he doesn't thank us for it. As soon as one thing is done +with, up starts another that we are entreated to be interested +in—things we don't care about one bit. Old Phipps protests that it is +vanity and busy-bodyism. I hope I shall never grow so hard-hearted as to +see a poor soul want and not help her, but I hate to be canvassed for +alms on behalf of other people's benevolent objects—don't you?"</p> + +<p>"It has never happened to me. I remember that my father used to appeal +to Lady Latimer and Miss Wort when his poor patients had not fit diet. +Lady Latimer was his chief Lady Bountiful."</p> + +<p>"That may be true, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing. +I love fair play. The schools, now—they were very good schools before +ever she came into the Forest; yes, as far back as your father's time, +Bessie Fairfax—and yet, to hear the way in which she is belauded by a +certain set, one might suppose that she had been the making of them. But +it is the same all the world over—a hundred hands do the work, and one +name gets all the praise!" Miss Buff was growing warm over her +reminiscences, but catching the spark of mischief in Bessie's eyes, she +laughed, and added with great candor: "Yes, I confess there is a spice +of rivalry between us, but I am very fond of her all the same."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. She loves to rule, but then she has the talent," pleaded +Bessie.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, there you are mistaken. She is too fussy; she irritates +people. But for the old admiral she would often get into difficulties. +Beechhurst has taken to ladies' meetings and committees, and all sorts +of fudge that she is the moving spirit of. I often wish we were back in +the quiet, times when dear old Hutton was rector, and would not let <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>her +be always interfering. I suppose it comes of this new doctrine of the +equality of the sexes; but I say they never will be equal till women +consent to be frights. It gives a man an immense pull over us to clap on +his hat without mounting up stairs to the looking-glass: while we are +getting ready to go and do a thing, he has gone and done it. You hear +Lady Latimer's name at every turn, but the old admiral is the backbone +of Beechhurst, as he always was, and old Phipps is his right hand."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Musgrave and my father?" queried Bessie.</p> + +<p>"They do their part, but it is so unobtrusively that one forgets them; +but they would be missed if they were not there. Mr. Musgrave has a +great deal of influence amongst his own class—the farmers and those +people. Of course, you have heard how wonderfully his son is getting on +at college? Oh, my dear, what a stir there was about his running over to +Normandy after you!"</p> + +<p>"Dear Harry! I saw him again quite lately. He came to see me at Bayeux," +said Bessie with a happy sigh.</p> + +<p>"Did he? we never heard of that. He is at home now: perhaps he will come +over with them to-morrow, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I wish he would," was Bessie's frank rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"And who else is there that you used to like? Fanny Mitten has married a +clerk in the Hampton Bank, and Miss Ely is married; but she was married +in London. I was in great hopes once that old Phipps would take Miss +Thusy O'Flynn, and a sweet pair they would have been; but he thought +better of it, and she went away as she came. Her aunt was a good old +soul, and what did it matter if she was vulgar? We were very sorry to +lose her contralto in the choir." Miss Buff's gossip was almost run out. +Bessie remembered little Christie to inquire for him. "Little +Christie—who is he? I never heard of him. Oh, the wheelwright's son who +went away to be an artist! I don't know. The old man made me a +garden-barrow once, and charged me enormously; and when I told him it +was too dear, he said it would last me my life. Such impertinence! The +common people grow very independent."</p> + +<p>Bessie had heard the anecdote of the garden-barrow before. It spoke +volumes for the peace and simplicity of Miss Buff's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>life that she still +recollected and cited this ancient grievance. A few more words of the +doctor and his household, a few doubts and fears on Bessie's part that +her telegram might be delayed, and a few cheery predictions on Miss +Buff's, and they said good-bye, with the expression of a cordial hope +that they might meet soon again, and meet in the Forest. Bessie Fairfax +was amused and exhilarated by this familiar tattle about her beloved +Beechhurst. It had dissipated the shadows of her three years' absence, +and made home present to her once more. Nothing seems trivial that +concerns places and people dear to young affections, and all the keener +became her desire to be amongst them. She consulted Smith's boy as to +the probable time of the arrival of her telegram at the doctor's house; +she studied the table of the steamboats. She regretted bitterly that she +had not written the first day at Ryde; then pleaded her own excuse +because letters were a rarity for her to write, and had hitherto +required a formal permission.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Betts lingered with her long and patiently upon the pier, but the +Gardiners did not come down again, and by and by Mrs. Betts, feeling the +approach of dinner-time, began to look out towards the yacht. After a +minute's steady observation she said, half to herself, but seriously, "I +do believe they are making ready to sail. There is a boat alongside with +bread and things."</p> + +<p>"To sail! To leave Ryde! Oh, don't you think my uncle would wait a day +if I begged him?" cried Bessie in acute dismay.</p> + +<p>"No, miss—not if he has given orders and the wind keeps fair. If I was +in your place, miss, I should not ask him. And as for the telegram, I +should not name it. It would put Mr. Frederick out, and do no good."</p> + +<p>Bessie did not name it. Mrs. Betts's speculation proved correct. The +yacht sailed away in the afternoon. About the time when Mrs. Carnegie +was hurriedly dressing to drive with her husband to Hampton over-night, +to ensure not missing the mail-boat to Ryde in the morning, that gay and +pleasant town was fast receding from Bessie's view. At dawn the island +was out of sight, and when Mr. Carnegie, landing on the pier, sought a +boat to carry him and his wife to the Foam, a boat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>man looked up at him +and said, "The Foam, sir? You'll have much ado to overtake her. She's +halfway to Hastings by this time. She sailed yesterday soon after five +o'clock."</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie turned away in silence. They had nothing to do but +sorrowfully to repair home again. They were more grieved at heart by +this disappointment than by any that had preceded it; and all the more +did they try to cheer one another.</p> + +<p>"Don't fret, Jane: it hurts me to see you fret," said the doctor. "It +was a nice thought in Bessie, but the chance was a poor one."</p> + +<p>"We have lost her, Thomas; I fear we have lost her," said his wife. "It +is unnatural to pass by our very door, so to speak, and not let us see +her. But I don't blame her."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Bessie is not to blame: Harry Musgrave can tell us better than +that. It is Mr. Fairfax—his orders. He forbade her coming, or it might +have been managed easily. It is a mistake. He will never win her heart +so; and as for ruling her except through her affections, he will have a +task. I'm sorry, for the child will not be happy."</p> + +<p>When Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie arrived at home they found Bessie's letter +that had come by post—an abrupt, warm little letter that comforted them +for themselves, but troubled them for her exceedingly. "God bless her, +dear child!" said her mother. "I am afraid she will cry sadly, Thomas, +and nobody to say a loving word to her or give her a kiss."</p> + +<p>"It is a pity; she will have her share of vexations. But she is young +and can bear them, with all her life before her. We will answer that +pretty letter, that she may have something to encourage her when she +gets amongst her grand relations. I suppose it may be a week or ten days +first. We have done what we could, Jane, so cheer up, and let it rest."</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<h3><i>BESSIE'S BRINGING HOME.</i></h3> + +<p>When Bessie Fairfax realized that the yacht was sailing away from Ryde +not to return, and carrying her quite out of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>reach of pursuit, her +spirits sank to zero. It was a perfect evening, and the light on the +water was lovely, but to her it was a most melancholy view—when she +could see it for the mist that obscured her vision. All her heart +desired was being left farther and farther behind, and attraction there +was none in Woldshire to which she was going. She looked at her uncle +Frederick, silent, absent, sad; she remembered her grandfather, cold, +sarcastic, severe; and every ensuing day she experienced fits of +dejection or fits of terror and repulsion, to which even the most +healthy young creatures are liable when they find themselves cut adrift +from what is dear and familiar. Happily, these fits were intermittent, +and at their worst easily diverted by what interested her on the voyage; +and she did not encourage the murky humor: she always tried to shake it +off and feel brave, and especially she made the effort as the yacht drew +towards its haven. It was her nature to struggle against gloom and pain +for a clear outlook at her horizon, and Madame Fournier had not failed +to supply her with moral precepts for sustenance when cast on the shore +of a strange and indifferent society.</p> + +<p>The Foam touched at Hastings, at Dover, at semi-Dutch Harwich, and then +no more until it put into Scarcliffe Bay. Here Bessie's sea-adventures +ended. She went ashore and walked with her uncle on the bridge, gazing +about with frank, unsophisticated eyes. The scenery and the weather were +beautiful. Mr. Frederick Fairfax had many friends now at Scarcliffe, the +favorite sea-resort of the county people. Greetings met him on every +hand, and Bessie was taken note of. "My niece Elizabeth." Her history +was known, kindness had been bespoken for her, her prospects were +anticipated by a prescient few.</p> + +<p>At length one acquaintance gave her uncle news: "The squire and your +brother are both in the town. I fell in with them at the bank less than +an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"That is good luck: then we will go into the town and find them." And he +moved off with alacrity, as if in sight of the end of an irksome duty. +Bessie inquired if her uncle was going forward to Abbotsmead, to which +he replied that he was not; he was going across to Norway to make the +most of the fine weather while it lasted. He might be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>at horns in the +winter, but his movements were always uncertain.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax came upon them suddenly out of the library. "Eh! here you +are! We heard that the Foam was in," said he, and shook hands with his +eldest son as if he had been parted with only yesterday. Then he spoke a +few words to Bessie, rather abruptly, but with a critical observance of +her: she had outgrown his recollection, and was more of a woman than he +had anticipated. He walked on without any attempt at conversation until +they met a third, a tall man with a fair beard, whom her grandfather +named as "Your uncle Laurence, Elizabeth." And she had seen all her +Woldshire kinsmen. For a miracle, she was able to put as cool a face +upon her reception as the others did. A warm welcome would have brought +her to tears and smiles, but its quiet formality subdued emotion and set +her features like a handsome mask. She was too composed. Pride tinged +with resentment simulates dignified composure very well for a little +while, but only for a little while when there is a heart behind.</p> + +<p>They went walking hither and thither about the steep, windy streets. +Bessie fell behind. Now and then there was an encounter with other +gentlemen, brief, energetic speech, inquiry and answer, sally and +rejoinder, all with one common subject of interest—the Norminster +election. Scarcliffe is a fine town, and there was much gay company +abroad that afternoon, but Bessie was too miserable to be amused. Her +uncle Laurence was the one of the party who was so fortunate as to +discover this. He turned round on a sudden recollection of his stranger +niece, and surprised a most desolate look on her rosy face. Bessie +confessed her feelings by the grateful humility of her reply to his +considerate proposal that they should turn in at a confectioner's they +were passing and have a cup of tea.</p> + +<p>"My father is as full of this election as if he were going to contest +the city of Norminster himself," said he. "I hope you have a blue +bonnet? You will have to play your part. Beautiful ladies are of great +service in these affairs."</p> + +<p>Bessie had not a blue bonnet; her bonnet was white chip and pink +may—the enemy's colors. She must put it by till the end of the war. Tea +and thick bread and butter were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>supplied to the hungry couple, and +about four o'clock Mr. Fairfax called for them and hurried them off to +the train. Mr. Laurence went on to Norminster, dropping the squire and +Elizabeth at Mitford Junction. Thence they had a drive of four miles +through a country of long-backed, rounded hills, ripening cornfields, +and meadows green with the rich aftermath, and full of cattle. The sky +above was high and clear, the air had a crispness that was exhilarating. +The sun set in scarlet splendor, and the reflection of its glory was +shed over the low levels of lawn, garden, and copse, which, lying on +either side of a shallow, devious river, kept still the name of +Abbotsmead that had belonged to them before the great monastery at +Kirkham was dissolved.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was in good-humor now, and recovered from his momentary loss +of self-possession at the sight of his granddaughter so thoroughly grown +up. Also, election business at Norminster was going as he would have it, +and bowling smoothly along in the quiet, early evening he had time to +think of Elizabeth, sitting bolt upright in the carriage beside him. She +had a pretty, pensive air, for which he saw no cause—only the +excitement of novelty staved off depression—and in his sarcastic vein, +with doubtful compliment, he said, "I did not expect to see you grown so +tall, Elizabeth. You look as healthy as a milkmaid."</p> + +<p>She was very quick and sensitive of feeling. She understood him +perfectly, and replied that she <i>was</i> as healthy as a milkmaid. Then she +reverted to her wistful contemplation of the landscape, and tried to +think of that and not of herself, which was too pathetic.</p> + +<p>This country was not so lovely as the Forest. It had only the beauty of +high culture. Human habitations were too wide-scattered, and the +trees—there were no very great trees, nor any blue glimpses of the sea. +Nevertheless, when the carriage turned into the domain at a pretty +rustic lodge, the overarching gloom of an avenue of limes won Bessie's +admiration, and a few fir trees standing in single grace near the ruins +of the abbey, which they had to pass on their way to the house, she +found almost worthy to be compared with the centenarians of the Forest. +The western sun was still upon the house itself. The dusk-tiled mansard +roof, pierced by two <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>rows of twinkling dormers, and crowned by solid +chimney-stacks, bulked vast and shapely against the primrose sky, and +the stone-shafted lower windows caught many a fiery reflection in their +blackness. Through a porch broad and deep, and furnished with oaken +seats, Bessie preceded her grandfather into a lofty and spacious hall, +where the foot rang on the bare, polished boards, and ten generations of +Fairfaxes, successive dwellers in the grand old house, looked down from +the walls. It was not lighted except by the sunset, which filled it with +a warm and solemn glow.</p> + +<p>Numerous servants appeared, amongst them a plump functionary in blue +satinette and a towering cap, who curtseyed to Elizabeth and spoke some +words of real welcome: "I'm right glad to see you back, Miss Fairfax; +these arms were the first that held you." Bessie's impulse was to fall +on the neck of this kindly personage with kisses and tears, but her +grandfather's cool tone intervening maintained her reserve:</p> + +<p>"Your young mistress will be pleased to go to her room, Macky. Your +reminiscences will keep till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Macky, instantly obedient, begged Miss Fairfax to "come this way," and +conducted her through a double-leaved door that stood open to the inner +hall, carpeted with crimson pile, like the wide shallow stairs that went +up to the gallery surrounding the greater hall. On this gallery opened +many doors of chambers long silent and deserted.</p> + +<p>"The master ordered you the white suite," announced Macky, ushering +Elizabeth into the room so called. "It has pretty prospects, and the +rooms are not such wildernesses as the other state-apartments. The +eldest unmarried lady of the family always occupied the white suite."</p> + +<p>A narrow ante-room, a sitting-room, a bed-room, and off it a +sleeping-closet for her maid,—this was the private lodging accorded to +the new daughter of the house. Bessie gazed about, taking in a general +impression of faded, delicate richness, of white and gold and sparse +color, in elegant, antiquated taste, like a boudoir in an old Norman +château that she had visited.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Betts was so thoughtful as to come on by an earlier train to get +unpacked and warn us to be prepared," Macky observed in a respectful +explanatory tone; and then she went on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>to offer her good wishes to the +young lady she had nursed, in the manner of an old and trusted dependant +of the family. "It is fine weather and a fine time of year, and we hope +and pray all of us, Miss Fairfax, as this will be a blessed +bringing-home for you and our dear master. Most of us was here servants +when Mr. Geoffry, your father, went south. A cheerful, pleasant +gentleman he was, and your mamma as pleasant a lady. And here is Mrs. +Betts to wait on you."</p> + +<p>Bessie thanked the old woman, and would have bidden her remain and talk +on about her forgotten parents, but Macky with another curtsey retired, +and Mrs. Betts, calm and peremptory, proceeded to array her young lady +in her prize-day muslin dress, and sent her hastily down stairs under +the guidance of a little page who loitered in the gallery. At the foot +of the stairs a lean, gray-headed man in black received her, and ushered +her into a beautiful octagon-shaped room, all garnished with books and +brilliant with light, where her grandfather was waiting to conduct her +to dinner. So much ceremony made Bessie feel as if she was acting a part +in a play. Since Macky's kind greeting her spirits had risen, and her +countenance had cleared marvellously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was standing opposite the door when she appeared. "Good God! +it is Dolly!" he exclaimed, visibly startled. Dolly was his sister +Dorothy, long since dead. Not only in face and figure, but in a certain +lightness of movement and a buoyant swift way of stepping towards him, +Elizabeth recalled her. Perhaps there was something in the simplicity of +her dress too: there on the wall was a pretty miniature of her +great-aunt in blue and white and golden flowing hair to witness the +resemblance. Mr. Fairfax pointed it out to his granddaughter, and then +they went to dinner.</p> + +<p>It was a very formal ceremonial, and rather tedious to the +newly-emancipated school-girl. Jonquil served his master when he was +alone, but this evening he was reinforced by a footman in blue and +silver, by way of honor to the young lady. Elizabeth faced her +grandfather across a round table. A bowl-shaped chandelier holding +twelve wax-lights hung from the groined ceiling above the rose-decked +<i>épergne</i>, making a bright oasis in the centre of a room gloomy rather +from the darkness of its fittings than from the insufficiency of +illumi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>nation. Under the soft lustre the plate, precious for its antique +beauty, the quaint cut glass, and old blue china enriched with gold were +displayed to perfection. Bessie had a taste, her eye was gratified, +there was repose in all this splendor. But still she felt that odd +sensation of acting in a comedy which would be over as soon as the +lights were out. Suddenly she recollected the bare board in the Rue St. +Jean, the coarse white platters, the hunches of sour bread, the lenten +soup, the flavorless <i>bouilli</i>, and sighed—sighed audibly, and when her +grandfather asked her why that mournful sound, she told him. Her courage +never forsook her long.</p> + +<p>"It has done you no harm to sup your share of Spartan broth; hard living +is good for us young," was the squire's comment. "You never +complained—your dry little letters always confessed to excellent +health. When I was at school we fed roughly. The joints were cut into +lumps which had all their names, and we were in honor bound not to pick +and choose, but to strike with the fork and take what came up."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Bessie, pricked in her pride and conscience lest she +should seem to be weakly complaining now—"of course we had treats +sometimes. On madame's birthday we had a glass of white wine at dinner, +which was roast veal and pancakes. And on our own birthdays we might +have <i>galette</i> with sugar, if we liked to give Margotin the money."</p> + +<p>"I trust the whole school had <i>galette</i> with sugar on your birthday, +Elizabeth?" said her grandfather, quietly amused. He was relieved to +find her younger, more child-like in her ideas, than her first +appearance gave him hopes of. His manner relaxed, his tone became +indulgent. When she smiled with a blush, she was his sweet sister Dolly; +when her countenance fell grave again, she was the shy, touchy, +uncertain little girl who had gone to Fairfield on their first +acquaintance so sorely against her inclination. After Jonquil and his +assistant retired, Elizabeth was invited to tell how the time had passed +on board the Foam.</p> + +<p>"Pleasantly, on the whole," she said. "The weather was so fine that we +were on deck from morning till night, and often far on into the night +when the moon shone. It was delightful cruising off the Isle of Wight; +only I had an immense disappointment there."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>"What was that?" Mr. Fairfax asked, though he had a shrewd guess.</p> + +<p>"I did not remember how easy it is to send a letter—not being used to +write without leave—and I trusted Mr. Wiley, whom I met on Ryde pier +going straight back to Beechhurst, with a message to them at home, which +he forgot to deliver. And though I did write after, it was too late, for +we left Ryde the same day. So I lost the opportunity of seeing my father +and mother. It was a pity, because we were so near; and I was all the +more sorry because it was my own fault."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was silent for a few minutes after this bold confession. He +had interdicted any communication with the Forest, as Mr. Carnegie +prevised. He did not, however, consider it necessary to provoke Bessie's +ire by telling her that he was responsible for her immense +disappointment. He let that pass, and when he spoke again it was to draw +her out on the more important subject of what progress Mr. Cecil +Burleigh had made in her interest. It was truly vexatious, but as Bessie +told her simple tale she was conscious that her color rose and deepened +slowly to a burning blush. Why? She vehemently assured herself that she +did not care a straw for Mr. Cecil Burleigh, that she disliked him +rather than otherwise, yet at the mere sound of his name she blushed. +Perhaps it was because she dreaded lest anybody should suspect the +mistake her vanity had made before. Her grandfather gave her one acute +glance, and was satisfied that this business also went well.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cecil Burleigh left the yacht at Ryde. It was the first day of the +regatta when we anchored there, and we landed and saw the town," was all +Bessie said in words, but her self-betrayal was eloquent.</p> + +<p>"We—what do you mean by <i>we</i>? Did your uncle Frederick land?" asked the +squire, not caring in the least to know.</p> + +<p>"No—only Mr. Cecil Burleigh and myself. We went to the house of some +friends of his where we had lunch; and afterward Mrs. Gardiner and one +of the young ladies took me to the Arcade. My uncle never landed at all +from the day we left Caen till we arrived at Scarcliffe. Mrs. Betts went +into Harwich with me. That is a very quaint old town, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>but nothing in +England looks so battered and decayed as the French cities do."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax knew all about Miss Julia Gardiner, and Elizabeth's +information that Mr. Cecil Burleigh had called on the family in Ryde +caused him to reflect. It was very imprudent to take Elizabeth with +him—very imprudent indeed; of course, the squire could not know how +little he was to blame. To take her mind off the incident that seriously +annoyed himself, he asked what troubles Caen had seen, and Bessie, +thankful to discourse of something not confusing, answered him like a +book:</p> + +<p>"Oh, many. It is very impoverished and dilapidated. The revocation of +the Edict of Nantes ruined its trade. Its principal merchants were +Huguenots: there are still amongst the best families some of the +Reformed religion. Then in the great Revolution it suffered again; the +churches were desecrated, and turned to all manner of common uses; some +are being restored, but I myself have seen straw hoisted in at a church +window, beautiful with flamboyant tracery in the arch, the shafts below +being partly broken away."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax remarked that France was too prone to violent remedies; then +reverting to the subjects uppermost in his thoughts, he said, "Elections +and politics cannot have much interest for you yet, Elizabeth, but +probably you have heard that Mr. Cecil Burleigh is going to stand for +Norminster?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he spoke of it to my uncle Frederick. He is a very liberal +Conservative, from what I heard him say. There was a famous contest for +Hampton when I was not more than twelve years old: we went to see the +members chaired. My father was orange—the Carnegies are almost +radicals; they supported Mr. Hiloe—and we wore orange rosettes."</p> + +<p>"A most unbecoming color! You must take up with blue now; blue is the +only wear for a Fairfax. Most men might wear motley for a sign of their +convictions. Let us return to the octagon parlor; it is cheerful with a +fire after dinner. At Abbotsmead there are not many evenings when a fire +is not acceptable at dusk."</p> + +<p>The fire was very acceptable; it was very composing and pleasant. Bright +flashes of flame kindled and reddened the fragrant dry pine chips and +played about the lightly-piled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>logs. Mr. Fairfax took his own +commodious chair on one side of the hearth, facing the uncurtained +windows; a low seat confronted him for Bessie. Both were inclined to be +silent, for both were full of thought. The rich color and gilding of the +volumes that filled the dwarf bookcases caught the glow, as did +innumerable pretty objects besides—water-color drawings on the walls, +mirrors that reflected the landscape outside, statuettes in shrines of +crimson fluted silk—but the prettiest object by far in this dainty +lady's chamber was still Bessie Fairfax, in her white raiment and +rippled, shining hair.</p> + +<p>This was her grandfather's reflection, and again that impulse to love +her that he had felt at Beechhurst long ago began to sway his feelings. +It was on the cards that he might become to her a most indulgent, fond +old man; but then Elizabeth must be submissive, and do his will in great +things if he allowed her to rule in small. Bessie had dropt her mask and +showed her bright face, at peace for the moment; but it was shadowed +again by the resurrection of all her wrongs when her grandfather said on +bidding her good-night, "Perhaps, Elizabeth, the assurance that will +tend most to promote your comfort at Abbotsmead, to begin with, is that +you have a perfect right to be here."</p> + +<p>Her astonishment was too genuine to be hidden. Did her grandfather +imagine that she was flattered by her domicile in his grand house? It +was exile to her quite as much as the old school at Caen. Nothing had +ever occurred to shake her original conviction that she was cruelly used +in being separated from her friends in the Forest. <i>They</i> were her +family—not these strangers. Bessie dropped him her embarrassed +school-girl's curtsey, and said, "Good-night, sir"—not even a Thank +you! Mr. Fairfax thought her manner abrupt, but he did not know the +depth and tenacity of her resentment, or he would have recognized the +blunder he had committed in bringing her into Woldshire with unsatisfied +longings after old, familiar scenes.</p> + +<p>Bessie was of a thoroughly healthy nature and warmly affectionate. She +felt very lonely and unfriended; she wished that her grandfather had +said he was glad to have her at Abbotsmead, instead of telling her that +she had a <i>right</i> to be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>there; but she was also very tired, and sleep +soon prevailed over both sweet and bitter fancies. Premature resolutions +she made none; she had been warned against them by Madame Fournier as +mischievous impediments to making the best of life, which is so much +less often "what we could wish than what we must even put up with."</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>THE NEXT MORNING.</i></h3> + +<p>Perplexities and distressed feelings notwithstanding, Bessie Fairfax +awoke at an early hour perfectly rested and refreshed. In the east the +sun was rising in glory. A soft, bluish haze hung about the woods, a +thick dew whitened the grass. She rose to look out of the window.</p> + +<p>"It is going to be a lovely day," she said, and coiled herself in a +cushioned chair to watch the dawn advancing.</p> + +<p>All the world was hushed and silent yet. Slowly the light spread over +the gardens, over the meadows and cornfields, chasing away the shadows +and revealing the hues of shrub and flower. A reach of the river stole +into view, and the red roof of an old mill on its banks. Then there was +a musical, monotonous, reiterated call not far off which roused the +cattle, and brought them wending leisurely towards the milking-shed. The +crowing of cocks near and more remote, the chirping of little birds +under the eaves, began and increased. A laborer, then another, on their +way to work, passed within sight along a field-path leading to the mill; +a troop of reapers came by the same road. Then there was the pleasant +sound of sharpening a scythe, and Bessie saw a gardener on the lawn +stoop to his task.</p> + +<p>She returned to her pillow, and slept again until she was awakened by +somebody coming to her bedside. It was Mrs. Betts, bearing in her hands +one of those elegant china services for a solitary cup of tea which have +popularized that indulgence amongst ladies.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Bessie asked, gazing with a puzzled air at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>the tiny +turquoise-blue vessels. "Tea? I am going to get up to breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, miss, I hope so. But it is a custom with many young ladies +to have a cup of tea before dressing."</p> + +<p>"I will touch my bell if I want anything. No—no tea, thank you," +responded Bessie; and the waiting-woman felt herself dismissed. Bessie +chose to make and unmake her toilette alone. It was easy to see that her +education had not been that of a young lady of quality, for she was +quite independent of her maid; but Mrs. Betts was a woman of experience +and made allowance for her, convinced that, give her time, she would be +helpless and exacting enough.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax and his granddaughter met in the inner hall with a polite +"Good-morning." Elizabeth looked shyly proud, but sweet as a dewy rose. +The door of communication with the great hall was thrown wide open. It +was all in cool shade, redolent of fresh air and the perfume of flowers. +Jonquil waited to usher them to breakfast, which was laid in the room +where they had dined last night.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was never a talker, but he made an effort on behalf of +Bessie, with whom it was apparently good manners not to speak until she +was spoken to. "What will you do, Elizabeth, by way of making +acquaintance with your home? Will you have Macky with her legends of +family history and go over the house, or will you take a turn outside +with me and visit the stables?"</p> + +<p>Bessie knew which it was her duty to prefer, and fortunately her duty +tallied with her inclination; her countenance beamed, and she said, "I +will go out with you, if you please."</p> + +<p>"You ride, I know. There is a nice little filly breaking in for you: you +must name her, as she is to be yours."</p> + +<p>"May I call her Janey?"</p> + +<p>"Janey! Was that the name of Mr. Carnegie's little mare?"</p> + +<p>"No; she was Miss Hoyden. Janey was the name of my first friend at +school. She went away soon, and I have never heard of her since. But I +shall: I often think of her."</p> + +<p>"You have a constant memory, Elizabeth—not the best memory for your +happiness. What are you eating? Only bread and butter. Will you have no +sardines, bacon, eggs, honey? Nothing! A very abstemious young lady! You +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>have done with school, and may wean yourself from school-fare."</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, Mrs. Betts brought her young lady's leghorn hat and a +pair of new Limerick gauntlet-gloves—nice enough for Sunday in Bessie's +modest opinion, but as they were presented for common wear she put them +on and said nothing. Mr. Fairfax conducted his granddaughter to his +private room, which had a lobby and porch into the garden, and twenty +paces along the wall a door into the stable-yard. The groom who had the +nice little filly in charge to train was just bringing her out of her +stable.</p> + +<p>"There is your Janey, Elizabeth," said her grandfather.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a darling!" cried Bessie in a voice that pleased him, as the +pretty creature began to dance and prance and sidle and show off her +restive caprices, making the groom's mounting her for some minutes +impracticable.</p> + +<p>"It is only her play, miss—she ain't no vice at all," the man said, +pleading her excuses. "She'll be as dossil as dossil can be when I've +give her a gallop. But this is her of a morning—so fresh there's no +holding her."</p> + +<p>Another groom had come to aid, and at length the first was seated firm +in the saddle, with a flowing skirt to mimic the lady that Janey was to +carry. And with a good deal of manœuvring they got safe out of the +yard.</p> + +<p>"You would like to follow and see? Come, then," said the squire, and led +Bessie by a short cut across the gardens to the park. Janey was flying +like the wind over the level turf, but she was well under guidance, and +when her rider brought her round to the spot where Mr. Fairfax and the +young lady stood to watch, she quite bore out his encomium on her +docility. She allowed Bessie to stroke her neck, and even took from her +hand an apple which the groom produced from a private store of +encouragement and reward in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"It will be well to give her a good breathing before Miss Fairfax mounts +her, Ranby," said his master, walking round her approvingly. Then to +Bessie he said, "Do you know enough of horses not to count rashness +courage, Elizabeth?"</p> + +<p>"I am ready to take your word or Ranby's for what is venturesome," was +Bessie's moderate reply. "My father taught me to ride as soon as I could +sit, so that I have no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>fear. But I am out of practice, for I have never +ridden since I went to Caen."</p> + +<p>"You must have a new habit: you shall have a heavy one for the winter, +and ride to the meet with me occasionally. I suppose you have never done +that?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Musgrave once took me to see the hounds throw off. I rode Harry's +pony that day. I was staying at Brook for a week."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax knew who "Mr. Musgrave" was and who "Harry" was, but Bessie +did not recollect that he knew. However, as he asked no explanation of +them, she volunteered none, and they returned to the gardens.</p> + +<p>The cultivated grounds of Abbotsmead extended round three sides of the +house. On the west, where the principal entrance was, an outer +semicircle of lime trees, formed by the extension of the avenue, +enclosed a belt of evergreens, and in the middle of the drive rose a +mound over which spread a magnificent cedar. The great hall was the +central portion of the building, lighted by two lofty, square-headed +windows on either side of the door; the advanced wings that flanked it +had corresponding bays of exquisite proportions, which were the +end-windows of the great drawing-room and the old banqueting-room. The +former was continued along the south, with one bay very wide and deep, +and on either side of it a smaller bay, all preserving their dim glazing +after the old Venetian pattern. Beyond the drawing-room was the modern +adaptation of the wing which contained the octagon parlor and +dining-room: from the outside the harmony of construction was not +disturbed. The library adjoined the banqueting-room on the north, and +overlooked a fine expanse where the naturalization of American trees and +shrubs had been the hobby of the Fairfaxes for more than one generation. +The flower-garden was formed in terraces on the south, and was a mixture +of Italian and old English taste. The walls were a mingled tapestry of +roses, jessamine, sweet clematis, and all climbing plants hardy enough +to bear the rigors of the northern winter. Trimmed in though ever so +closely in the fall of the year, in the summer it bushed and blossomed +out into a wantonly luxuriant, delicious variety of color and fragrance. +If here and there a bit of gray stone showed through the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>mass, it +seemed only to enhance the loveliness of the leaf and flower-work.</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax stood to admire its glowing intricacy, and with a +remarkable effort of candor exclaimed, "I think this is as pretty as +anything in the Forest—as pretty as Fairfield or the manor-house at +Brook;" which amused her grandfather, for the south front of the old +mansion-house of Abbotsmead was one of the most grandly picturesque +specimens of domestic architecture to be found in the kingdom.</p> + +<p>In such perambulations time slips away fast. The squire looked at his +watch. It was eleven o'clock; at half-past he was due at a magistrate's +meeting two miles off; he must leave Bessie to amuse herself until +luncheon at two. Bessie was contented to be left. She replied that she +would now go indoors and write to her mother. Her grandfather paused an +instant on her answer, then nodded acquiescence and went away in haste. +Was he disappointed that she said nothing spontaneous? Bessie did not +give that a thought, but she said in her letter, "I do believe that my +grandfather wishes me to be happy here"—a possibility which had not +struck her until she took a pen in her hand, and set about reflecting +what news she had to communicate to her dear friends at Beechhurst. This +brilliant era of her vicissitudes was undoubtedly begun with a little +aversion.</p> + +<p>In the absence of her young lady, Mrs. Betts had unpacked and carefully +disposed of Bessie's limited possessions.</p> + +<p>"Your wardrobe will not give me much trouble, miss," said the +waiting-woman, with sly, good-humored allusion to the extent of it.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Bessie, misunderstanding her in perfect simplicity. "You +will find all in order. At school we mended our clothes and darned our +stockings punctually every week."</p> + +<p>"Did you really do this beautiful darning, miss? It is the finest +darning I ever met with—not to say it was lace." Mrs. Betts spoke more +seriously, as she held up to view a pair of filmy Lille thread stockings +which had sustained considerable dilapidation and repair.</p> + +<p>"Yes. They were not worth the trouble. Mademoiselle Adelaide made us +wear Lille thread on dancing-days that we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>might never want stockings to +mend. She had a passion for darning. She taught us to graft also: you +will find one pair of black silk grafted toe and heel. I have thought +them much too precious ever to wear since. I keep them for a curiosity."</p> + +<p>On the tables in Bessie's sitting-room were set out her humble +appliances for work, for writing—an enamelled white box with cut-steel +ornaments, much scratched; a capacious oval basket with a quilted red +silk cover, much faded; a limp Russia-leather blotting-book wrapped in +silver paper (Harry Musgrave had presented it to Bessie on her going +into exile, and she had cherished it too dearly to expose it to the risk +of blots at school). "I think," said she, "I shall begin to use it now."</p> + +<p>She released it from its envelope, smelt it, and laid it down +comfortably in front of the Sevres china inkstand. All the permanent +furniture of the writing-table was of Sevres china. Bessie thought it +grotesque, and had no notion of the value of it.</p> + +<p>"The big basket may be put aside?" suggested Mrs. Betts, and her young +lady did not gainsay her. But when the shabby little white enamelled box +was threatened, she commanded that that should be left—she had had it +so long she could not bear to part with it. It had been the joint-gift +of Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie on her twelfth birthday.</p> + +<p>Released, at length, from Mrs. Betts's respectful, observant presence, +Bessie began to look about her and consider her new habitation. A sense +of exaltation and a sense of bondage possessed her. These pretty, quaint +rooms were hers, then? It was not a day-dream—it was real. She was at +Abbotsmead—at Kirkham. Her true home-nest under the eaves at Beechhurst +was hundreds of miles away: farther still was the melancholy garden in +the Rue St. Jean.</p> + +<p>Opposite the parlor window was the fireplace, the lofty mantelshelf +being surmounted by a circular mirror, so inclined as to reflect the +landscape outside. Upon the panelled walls hung numerous specimens of +the elegant industry of Bessie's predecessors—groups of flowers +embroidered on tarnished white satin; shepherds and shepherdesses with +shell-pink painted faces and raiment of needlework in many colors; +pallid sketches of scenery; crayon portraits of youths and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>maidens of +past generations, none younger than fifty years ago. There was a +bookcase of white wood ruled with gold lines, like the spindly chairs +and tables, and here Bessie could study, if she pleased, the literary +tastes of ancient ladies, matrons and virgins, long since departed this +life in the odor of gentility and sanctity. The volumes were in bindings +rich and solid, and the purchase or presentation of each had probably +been an event. Bessie took down here and there one. Those ladies who +spent their graceful leisure at embroidery-frames were students of +rather stiff books. Locke <i>On the Conduct of the Human Understanding</i> +and Paley's <i>Evidences of the Christian Religion</i> Bessie took down and +promptly restored; also the <i>Sermons</i> of Dr. Barrow and the <i>Essays</i> of +Dr. Goldsmith. The <i>Letters</i> of Mrs. Katherine Talbot and Mrs. Elizabeth +Carter engaged her only a few minutes, and the novels of Miss Edgeworth +not much longer. The most modern volumes in the collection were +inscribed with the name of "Dorothy Fairfax," who reigned in the days of +Byron and Wordsworth, Keats and Shelley, and had through them (from the +contents of three white vellum-covered volumes of extracts in her +autograph) learnt to love the elder poets whose works in quarto +populated the library. To Bessie these volumes became a treasure out of +which she filled her mind with songs and ballads, lays and lyrics. The +third volume had a few blank pages at the end, and these were the last +lines in it:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class='stanza'><div>"Absence, hear thou my protestation</div> +<div class='i2'>Against thy strength,</div> +<div class='i2'>Distance and length;</div> +<div>Do what thou canst for alteration:</div> +<div class='i2'>For hearts of truest mettle</div> +<div class='i2'>Absence doth join, and Time doth settle."</div></div> +</div> + +<p>Twice over Bessie read this, then to herself repeated it aloud—all with +thoughts of her friends in the Forest.</p> + +<p>The next minute her fortitude gave way, tears rushed to her eyes, Madame +Fournier's precepts vanished out of remembrance, and she cried like a +child wanting its mother. In which unhappy condition Mrs. Betts +discovered her, sitting upon the floor, when the little page came flying +to announce luncheon and visitors. It was two o'clock already.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> + +<h3><i>NEIGHBORS TO ABBOTSMEAD.</i></h3> + +<p>Some recent duties of Mrs. Betts's service had given her, on occasion, +an authoritative manner, and she was impelled to use it when she +witnessed the forlornness of her young lady. "I am surprised that you +should give way, miss," said she. "In the middle of the day, too, when +callers are always liable, and your dear, good grandpapa expects a +smiling face! To make your eyes as red as a ferret—"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, they are not!" cried Bessie, and rose and ran to the +looking-glass.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Betts smiled at the effect of her tactics, and persevered: "Let me +see, miss: because if it is plain you have been fretting, you had better +make an excuse and stop up stairs. But the master will be vexed." Bessie +turned and submitted her countenance to inspection. "There was never a +complexion yet that was improved by fretting," was the waiting-woman's +severe insinuation. "You must wait five minutes, and let the air from +the window blow on you. Really, miss, you are too old to cry."</p> + +<p>Bessie offered no rejoinder; she was ashamed. The imperative necessity +of controlling the tender emotions had been sternly inculcated by Madame +Fournier. "Now shall I do?" she humbly asked, feeling the temperature of +her cheeks with her cool hands.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Betts judiciously hesitated, then, speaking in a milder voice, +said, "Yes—perhaps it would not be noticed. But tears was the very +mischief for eyes—<i>that</i> Miss Fairfax might take her word for. And it +was old Lady Angleby and her niece, one of the Miss Burleighs, who were +down stairs."</p> + +<p>Bessie blushed consciously, appealed to the looking-glass again, +adjusted her mind to her duty, and descended to the octagon parlor. The +rose was no worse for the shower. Mr. Fairfax was there, standing with +his back to the fireplace, and lending his ears to an argument that was +being slowly enunciated by the noble matron who filled his chair. A +younger lady, yet not very young, who was seated languidly with her back +to the light, acknowledged Bessie's entrance <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>with a smile that invited +her approach. "I think," she said, "you know my brother Cecil?" and so +they were introduced.</p> + +<p>For several minutes yet Lady Angleby's eloquence oozed on (her theme was +female emancipation), the squire listening with an inscrutable +countenance. "Now, I hope you feel convinced," was her triumphant +conclusion. Mr. Fairfax did not say whether he was convinced or not. He +seemed to observe that Elizabeth had come in, and begged to present his +granddaughter to her ladyship. Elizabeth made her pretty curtsey, and +was received with condescension, and felt, on a sudden, a most +unmannerly inclination to laugh, which she dissembled under a girlish +animation and alacrity in talk. The squire was pleased that she +manifested none of the stupid shyness of new young-ladyhood, though in +the presence of one of the most formidable of county magnates. Elizabeth +did not know that Lady Angleby was formidable, but she saw that she was +immense, and her sense of humor was stirred by the instant perception +that her self-consequence was as enormous as her bulk. But Miss Burleigh +experienced a thrill of alarm. The possibility of being made fun of by a +little simple girl had never suggested itself to the mind of her august +relative, but there was always the risk that her native shrewdness might +wake up some day from the long torpor induced by the homage paid to her +rank, and discover the humiliating fact that she was not always +imposing. By good luck for Miss Fairfax's favor with her, Pascal's maxim +recurred to her memory—that though it is not necessary to respect grand +people it is necessary to bow to them—and her temptation to be merry at +Lady Angleby's expense was instantly controlled. Miss Burleigh could not +but make a note of her sarcastic humor as a decidedly objectionable, and +even dangerous, trait in the young lady's character. That she dissembled +it so admirably was, however, to her credit. After his first movement of +satisfaction the squire was himself perplexed. Elizabeth's spirits were +lively and capricious, she was joyous-tempered, but she would not dare +to quiz; he must be mistaken. In fact, she had not yet acquired the +suppressed manner and deferential tone to her betters which are the +perpetuation of that ancient rule of etiquette by which inferiors are +guarded against affecting to be equal in talk <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>with the mighty. Mr. +Fairfax proposed rather abruptly to go in to luncheon. Jonquil had +announced it five minutes ago.</p> + +<p>"She is beautiful! <i>beautiful</i>! I am charmed. We shall have her with +us—a beautiful young woman would popularize our cause beyond anything. +But how would Cecil approve of that?" whispered Lady Angleby as she +toiled into the adjoining room with the help of her host's arm.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cecil Burleigh is wise and prudent. He will know how to temporize +with the vagaries of his womankind," said the squire. But he was highly +gratified by the complimentary appreciation of his granddaughter.</p> + +<p>"Vagaries, indeed! The surest signs of sound and healthy progress that +have shown themselves in this generation."</p> + +<p>Lady Angleby mounted her hobby. She was that queer modern development, a +democrat skin-deep, born and bred in feudal state, clothed in purple and +fine linen, faring sumptuously every day, and devoted colloquially to +the regeneration of the middle classes. The lower classes might now be +trusted to take care of themselves (with the help of the government and +the philanthropists), but such large discovery was being made of +frivolity, ignorance, and helplessness amongst the young women of the +great intermediate body of the people that Lady Angleby and a few select +friends had determined, looking for the blessing of Providence on their +endeavors, to take them under their patronage.</p> + +<p>"It is," she said, "a most hopeful thing to see the discontent that is +stirring amongst young women in this age, because an essential +preliminary to their improvement is the conviction that they have the +capacity for a freer, nobler life than that to which they are bound by +obsolete domestic traditions. Let us put within the reach of every young +girl an education that shall really develop her character and her +faculties. Why should the education of girls be arrested at eighteen, +and the apprenticeship of their brothers be continued to +one-and-twenty?" This query was launched into the air, but Lady +Angleby's prominent blue eyes seemed to appeal to Bessie, who was +visibly dismayed at the personal nature of the suggestion.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax smiled and bade her speak, and then laugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>ing, she said, +"Because at eighteen girls tire of grammar and dictionaries and precepts +for the conduct of life. We are women, and want to try life itself."</p> + +<p>"And what do you know to fit you for life?" said Lady Angleby firmly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, except by instinct and precept."</p> + +<p>"Exactly so. And where is your experience? You have none. Girls plunge +into life at eighteen destitute of experience—weak, foolish, ignorant +of men and themselves. No wonder the world is encumbered with so many +helpless poor creatures as it is."</p> + +<p>"I should not like to live with only girls till one-and-twenty. What +experience could we teach each other?" said Bessie, rather at sea. A +notion flashed across her that Lady Angleby might be talking nonsense, +but as her grandfather seemed to listen with deference, she could not be +sure.</p> + +<p>"Girls ought to be trained in logic, geometry, and physical science to +harden their mental fibre; and how can they be so trained if their +education is to cease at eighteen?" Then with a modest tribute to her +own undeveloped capacities, the great lady cried, "Oh, what I might have +done if I had enjoyed the advantages I claim for others!"</p> + +<p>"You don't know. You have never yet been thrown on your own resources," +said Bessie with an air of infinite suggestion.</p> + +<p>Lady Angleby stared in cold astonishment, but Bessie preserved her gay +self-possession. Lady Angleby's cold stare was to most persons utterly +confusing. Miss Burleigh, an inattentive listener (perhaps because her +state of being was always that of a passive listener), gently observed +that she had no idea what any of them would do if they were thrown on +their own resources.</p> + +<p>"No idea is ever expected from you, Mary," said her aunt, and turned her +stony regard upon the poor lady, causing her to collapse with a silent +shiver. Bessie felt indignant. What was this towering old woman, with +her theory of feminine freedom and practice of feminine tyranny? There +was a momentary hush, and then Lady Angleby with pompous complacency +resumed, addressing the squire:</p> + +<p>"Our large scheme cannot be carried into effect without <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>the general +concurrence of the classes we propose to benefit, but our pet plan for +proving to what women may be raised demands the concurrence of only a +few influential persons. I am sanguine that the government will yield to +our representations, and make us a grant for the foundation of a college +to be devoted to their higher education. We ask for twenty thousand +pounds."</p> + +<p>"I hope the government will have more wit," Mr. Fairfax exclaimed, his +rallying tone taking the sting out of his words. "The private hobbies of +you noble ladies must be supported out of your private purses, at the +expense of more selfish whims."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing so unjust as prejudice, unless it be jealousy," +exclaimed Lady Angleby with delicious unreason. "You would keep women in +subjection."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax laughed, and assented to the proposition. "You clamor for +the high education of a few at the cost of the many; is that fair?" he +continued. "High education is a luxury for those who can afford it—a +rich endowment for the small minority who have the power of mind to +acquire it; and no more to be provided for that small minority out of +the national exchequer than silk attire for our conspicuous beauties."</p> + +<p>"I shall never convert you into an advocate for the elevation of the +sex. You sustain the old cry—the inferiority of woman's intellect."</p> + +<p>"'The earth giveth much mould whereof earthen vessels are made, but +little dust that gold cometh of.' High education exists already for the +wealthy, and commercial enterprise will increase the means of it as the +demand increases. If you see a grain of gold in the dust of common life, +and likely to be lost there, rescue it for the crucible, but most such +grains of gold find out the way to refine themselves. As for gilding the +earthen pots, I take leave to think that it would be labor wasted—that +they are, in fact, more serviceable without ornament, plain, well-baked +clay. Help those who are helpless and protect those who are weak as much +as you please, but don't vex the strong and capable with idle +interference. Leave the middle classes to supply their wants in their +own way—they know them best, and have gumption enough—and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>stick we to +the ancient custom of providing for the sick and needy."</p> + +<p>"The ancient custom is good, and is not neglected, but the modern +fashion is better."</p> + +<p>"That I contest. There is more alloy of vanity and busy-bodyism in +modern philanthropy than savor of charity."</p> + +<p>"We shall never agree," cried Lady Angleby with mock despair. "Miss +Fairfax, this is the way with us—your grandfather and I never meet but +we fall out."</p> + +<p>"You are not much in earnest," said Bessie. Terrible child! she had set +down this great lady as a great sham.</p> + +<p>"To live in the world and to be absolutely truthful is very difficult, +is all but impossible," remarked Miss Burleigh with a mild +sententiousness that sounded irrelevant, but came probably in the +natural sequence of her unspoken thoughts.</p> + +<p>"When you utter maxims like your famous progenitor you should give us +his nod too, Mary," said her aunt. Then she suddenly inquired of Mr. +Fairfax, "When do you expect Cecil?"</p> + +<p>"Next week. He must address the electors at Norminster on Thursday. I +hope he will arrive here on Tuesday."</p> + +<p>Lady Angleby looked full in Bessie's face, which was instantly +overspread by a haughty blush. Miss Burleigh looked anywhere else. And +both drew the same conclusion—that the young lady's imagination was all +on fire, and that her heart would not be slow to yield and melt in the +combustion. The next move was back to the octagon parlor. The young +people walked to the open window; the elders had communications to +exchange that might or might not concern them, but which they were not +invited to hear. They leant on the sill and talked low. Miss Burleigh +began the conversation by remarking that Miss Fairfax must find +Abbotsmead very strange, being but just escaped from school.</p> + +<p>"It is strange, but one grows used to any place very soon," Bessie +answered.</p> + +<p>"You have no companion, and Mr. Fairfax sets his face against duennas. +What shall you do next week?"</p> + +<p>"What I am bid," said Bessie laconically. "My grandfather has bespoken +for me the good offices of Mrs. Stokes as guide to the choice of a blue +bonnet; the paramount duty of my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>life at present seems to be to conform +myself to the political views of Mr. Cecil Burleigh in the color of my +ribbons. I have great pleasure in doing so, for blue is my color, and +suits me."</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh had a good heart, and let Bessie's little bravado pass. +"Are you interested in the coming election? I cannot think of anything +else. My brother's career may almost be said to depend on his success."</p> + +<p>"Then I hope he will win."</p> + +<p>"Your kind good wishes should help him. You will come and stay at +Brentwood?"</p> + +<p>"Brentwood? what is Brentwood?"</p> + +<p>"My aunt's house. It is only two miles out of Norminster. My aunt was so +impatient to see you that she refused to wait one day. Cecil will often +be with us, for my father's house is at Carisfort—too far off."</p> + +<p>"I am at my grandfather's commands. I have not a friend here. I know no +one, and have even to find out the ways and manners of my new world. Do +you live at Brentwood?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. My home is with my aunt. I shall be glad, very glad, to give you +any help or direction that you like to ask for. Mrs. Stokes has a +charming taste in dress, and is a dear little woman. You could not have +a nicer friend; and she is well married, which is always an advantage in +a girl's friend. You will like Colonel Stokes too."</p> + +<p>In the course of the afternoon Bessie had the opportunity of judging for +herself. Colonel Stokes brought his wife to call upon her. Their +residence was close by Abbotsmead, at the Abbey Lodge, restored by Mr. +Fairfax for their occupation. Colonel Stokes was old enough to be his +wife's father, and young enough to be her hero and companion. She was a +plump little lady, full of spirits and loving-kindness. Bessie +considered her, and decided that she was of her own age, but Mrs. Stokes +had two boys at home to contradict that. She looked so girlish still in +her sage matronhood because she was happy, gay, contented with her life, +because her eyes were blue and limpid as deep lake water, and her cheeks +round and fresh as half-blown roses ungathered. Her dress was as dainty +as herself, and merited the eulogium that Miss Burleigh had passed upon +it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>"You are going to be so kind as to introduce me to a good milliner at +Norminster?" Bessie said after a few polite preliminaries.</p> + +<p>"Yes—to Miss Jocund, who will be delighted to make your acquaintance. I +shall tell her to take pains with you, but there will be no need to tell +her that; she always does take pains with girls who promise to do her +credit. I am afraid there is not time to send to Paris for the blue +bonnet you must wear next Thursday, but she will make you something +nice; you may trust her. This wonderful election is the event of the +day. We have resolved that Mr. Cecil Burleigh shall head the poll."</p> + +<p>"How shall you ensure his triumph? Are you going to canvass for him?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, that is out of date. But Lady Angleby threatens that she will +leave Brentwood, and never employ a Norminster tradesman again if they +are so ungrateful as to refuse their support to her nephew. They are +radicals every one."</p> + +<p>"And is not she also a radical? She talks of the emancipation of women +by keeping them at school till one-and-twenty, of the elevation of the +masses, and the mutual improvement of everybody not in the peerage."</p> + +<p>"You are making game of her, like my Arthur. No, she is not a radical; +that is all her <i>hum</i>. I believe Lord Angleby was something of the sort, +but I don't understand much about politics."</p> + +<p>"Only for the present occasion we are blue?" said Bessie airily.</p> + +<p>"Yes—all blue," echoed Mrs. Stokes. "Sky-blue," and they both laughed.</p> + +<p>"You must agree at what hour you will go into Norminster on Monday—the +half-past-eleven train is the best," Colonel Stokes said.</p> + +<p>"Cannot we go to-morrow?" his wife asked.</p> + +<p>"No, it is Saturday, market-day;" and his suggestion was adopted.</p> + +<p>When the visit was over, in the pleasantness of the late afternoon, +Bessie walked through the gardens and across the park with these +neighbors to Abbotsmead. A belt of shrubbery and a sunk fence divided +the grounds of the lodge from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>the park, and there was easy +communication by a rustic bridge and a wicket left on the latch. "I hope +you will come often to and fro, and that you will seek me whenever you +want me. This is the shortest way," Mrs. Stokes said to her. Bessie +thanked her, and then walked back to the house, taking her time, and +thinking what a long while ago it was since yesterday.</p> + +<p>Yesterday! Only yesterday she was on board the Foam that had brought her +from France, that had passed by the Forest—no longer ago than +yesterday, yet as far off already as a year ago.</p> + +<p>Thinking of it, she fell into a melancholy that belonged to her +character. She was tired with the incidents of the day. At dinner Mr. +Fairfax seemed to miss something that had charmed him the night before. +She answered when he spoke, but her gayety was under eclipse. They were +both relieved when the evening came to an end. Bessie was glad to escape +to solitude, and her grandfather experienced a sense of vague +disappointment, but he supposed he must have patience. Even Jonquil +observed the difference, and was sorry that this bright young lady who +had come into the house should enter so soon into its clouds; he was +grieved too that his dear old master, who betrayed an unwonted humility +in his desire to please her, should not at once find his reward in her +affection. Bessie was not conscious that it would have been any boon to +him. She had no rule yet to measure the present by except the past, and +her experience of his usage in the past did not invite her tenderness. A +reasonable and mild behavior was all she supposed to be required of her. +Anything else—whether for better or worse—would be spontaneous. She +could not affect either love or dislike, and how far she could dissemble +either she had yet to learn.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h3> + +<h3><i>PAST AND PRESENT.</i></h3> + +<p>The next morning Bessie was left entirely at liberty to amuse herself. +Mr. Fairfax had breakfasted alone, and was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>gone to Norminster before +she came down stairs. Jonquil made the communication. Bessie wondered +whether it was often so, and whether she would have to make out the +greater part of the days for herself. But she said nothing; some feeling +that she did not reason about told her that there must be no complaining +here, let the days be what they might. She wrote a long letter to Madame +Fournier, and then went out of doors, having declined Mrs. Betts's +proposed attendance.</p> + +<p>"Where is the village?" she asked a boy who was sweeping up fallen +leaves from the still dewy lawn. He pointed her the way to go. "And the +church and parsonage?" she added.</p> + +<p>"They be all together, miss, a piece beyond the lodge."</p> + +<p>With an object in view Bessie could feel interested. She was going to +see her mother's home, the house where she was herself born; and on the +road she began to question whether she had any kinsfolk on her mother's +side. Mrs. Carnegie had once told her that she believed not—unless +there were descendants of her grandfather Bulmer's only brother in +America, whither he had emigrated as a young man; but she had never +heard of any. A cousin of some sort would have been most acceptable to +Bessie in her dignified isolation. She did not naturally love solitude.</p> + +<p>The way across the park by which she had been directed brought her out +upon the high-road—a very pleasant road at that spot, with a fir wood +climbing a shallow hill opposite, bounded by a low stone fence, all +crusted with moss and lichen, age and weather.</p> + +<p>For nearly half a mile along the roadside lay an irregular open space of +broken ground with fine scattered trees upon it, and close turf where +primroses were profuse in spring. An old woman was sitting in the shade +knitting and tending a little black cow that cropped the sweet moist +grass. Only for the sake of speaking Bessie asked again her way to the +village.</p> + +<p>"Keep straight on, miss, you can't miss it," said the old woman, and +gazed up at her inquisitively.</p> + +<p>So Bessie kept straight on until she came to the ivy-covered walls of +the lodge; the porch opened upon the road, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>Colonel Stokes was +standing outside in conversation with another gentleman, who was the +vicar of Kirkham, Mr. Forbes. Bessie went on when she had passed them, +shyly disconcerted, for Colonel Stokes had come forward with an air of +surprise and had asked her if she was lost. Perhaps it was unusual for +young ladies to walk alone here? She did not know.</p> + +<p>The gentlemen watched her out of sight. "Miss Fairfax, of course," said +the vicar. "She walks admirably—I like to see that."</p> + +<p>"A handsome girl," said Colonel Stokes. And then they reverted to their +interrupted discussion, the approaching election at Norminster. The +clergyman was very keen about it, the old Indian officer was almost +indifferent.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Bessie reached the church—a very ancient church, spacious and +simple, with a square tower and a porch that was called Norman. The +graveyard surrounded it. A flagged pathway led from the gate between the +grassy mounds to the door, which stood open that the Saturday sun might +drive out the damp vapors of the week. She went in and saw whitewashed +walls; thick round pillars between the nave and aisles; deep-sunken +windows dim with fragmentary pieces of colored glass, and all more or +less out of the perpendicular; a worm-eaten oak-screen separating the +chancel and a solemn enclosure, erst a chapel, now the Fairfax pew; a +loft where the choir sat in front for divine service, with fiddle and +bassoon, and the school-children sat behind, all under the eye of the +parson and his clerk, who was also the school-master.</p> + +<p>In the chancel were several monuments to the memory of defunct pastors. +The oldest was very old, and the inscription in Latin on brass; the +newest was to Bessie's grandfather—the "Reverend Thomas Bulmer, for +forty-six years vicar of this parish." From the dates he had married +late, for he had died in a good old age in the same year as his daughter +Elizabeth, and only two months before her. In smaller letters below the +inscription-in-chief it was recorded that his wife Letitia was buried at +Torquay in Cornwall, and that this monument was erected to their pious +memory by their only child—"Elizabeth, the wife of the Reverend Geoffry +Fairfax, rector of Beechhurst in the county of Hants."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>All gone—not one left! Bessie pondered over this epitome of family +history, and thought within herself that it was not without cause she +felt alone here. With a shiver she returned into the sunshine and +proceeded up the public road. The vicarage was a little low house, very +humble in its externals, roofed with fluted tiles, and the walls covered +to the height of the chamber windows with green latticework and +creepers. It stood in a spacious garden and orchard, and had +outbuildings at a little distance on the same homely plan. The living +was in the gift of Abbotsmead, and the Fairfaxes had not been moved to +house their pastor, with his three hundred a year, in a residence fit +for a bishop. It was a simple, pleasant, rustic spot. The lower windows +were open, so was the door under the porch. Bessie saw that it could not +have undergone any material change since the summer days of twenty years +ago, when her father, a bright young fellow fresh from college, went to +read there of a morning with the learned vicar, and fell in love with +his pretty Elizabeth, and wooed and won her.</p> + +<p>Bessie, imperfectly informed, exaggerated the resentment with which Mr. +Fairfax had visited his offending son. It was never an active +resentment, but merely a contemptuous acceptance of his irrevocable act. +He said, "Geoffry has married to his taste. His wife is used to a plain +way of living; they will be more useful in a country parish living on +so, free from the temptations of superfluous means." And he gave the +young couple a bare pittance. Time might have brought him relenting, but +time does not always reserve us opportunities. And here was Bessie +Fairfax considering the sorrows and early deaths of her parents, +charging them to her grandfather's account, and confirming herself in +her original judgment that he was a hard and cruel man.</p> + +<p>The village of Kirkham was a sinuous wide street of homesteads and +cottages within gardens, and having a green open border to the road +where geese and pigs, cows and children, pastured indiscriminately. It +was the old order of things where one man was master. The gardens had, +for the most part, a fine show of fragrant flowers, the hedges were +neatly trimmed, the fruit trees were ripening abundantly. Of children, +fat and ruddy, clean and well clothed, there were many <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>playing about, +for their mothers were gone to Norminster market, and there was no +school on Saturday. Bessie spoke to nobody, and nobody spoke to her. +Some of the children dropt her a curtsey, but the majority only stared +at her as a stranger. She felt, somehow, as if she would never be +anything else but a stranger here. When she had passed through the +village to the end of it, where the "Chequers," the forge, and the +wheelwright's shed stood, she came to a wide common. Looking across it, +she saw the river, and found her way home by the mill and the +harvest-fields.</p> + +<p>It would have enhanced Bessie's pleasure, though not her happiness +perhaps, if she could have betaken herself to building castles in the +Woldshire air, but the moment she began to indulge in reverie her +thoughts flew to the Forest. No glamour of pride, enthusiasm, or any +sort of delightful hope mistified her imagination as to her real +indifference towards Abbotsmead. When she reached the garden she sat +down amongst the roses, and gazed at the beautiful old flower-woven +walls that she had admired yesterday, and felt like a visitor growing +weary of the place. Even while her bodily eyes were upon it, her mind's +eye was filled with a vision of the green slopes of the wilderness +garden at Brook, and the beeches laving their shadows in the sweet +running water.</p> + +<p>"I believe I am homesick," she said. "I cannot care for this place. I +should have had a better chance of taking to it kindly if my grandfather +had let me go home for a little while. Everything is an effort here." +And it is to be feared that she gave way again, and fretted in a manner +that Madame Fournier would have grieved to see. But there was no help +for it; her heart was sore, and tears relieved it.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>Mr. Fairfax was at home to dinner. He returned from Norminster jaded and +out of spirits. Now, Bessie, though she did not love him (though she +felt it a duty to assert and reassert that fact to herself, lest she +should forget it), felt oddly pained when she looked into his face and +saw that he was dull; to be dull signified to be unhappy in Bessie's +vocabulary. But timidity tied her tongue. It was not until Jonquil had +left them to themselves that they attempted any <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>conversation. Then Mr. +Fairfax remarked, "You have been making a tour of investigation, +Elizabeth: you have been into the village?"</p> + +<p>Bessie said that she had, and that she had gone into the church. Then +all at once an impulse came upon her to ask, "Why did you let my parents +go so far away? was it so very wrong in them to marry?"</p> + +<p>"No, not wrong at all. It is written, 'A man shall leave his father and +mother, and cleave unto his wife,'" was the baffling reply she got, and +it silenced her. And not for that occasion only.</p> + +<p>When Bessie retired into the octagon parlor her grandfather stayed +behind. He had been to see Mr. John Short that day, and had heard that a +new aspect had come over the electioneering sky. The Radicals had +received an impetus from some quarter unknown, and were preparing to +make such a hard fight for the representation of Norminster that the +triumph of the Tory party was seriously threatened. This news had vexed +him, but it was not of that he meditated chiefly when he was left alone. +It was of Bessie. He had founded certain pleasurable expectations upon +her, and he felt that these expectations were losing their bloom. He +could not fail to recollect her quietness of last night, when he noticed +the languor of her eyes, the dejection of her mouth, and the effort it +was to her to speak. The question concerning her parents had aroused the +slumbering ache of old remembrance, and had stung him anew with a sense +of her condemnation. A feeling akin to remorse visited him as he sat +considering, and by degrees realizing, what he had done to her, and was +doing; but he had his motive, he had his object in it, and the motive +had seemed to justify the means until he came to see her face to face. +Contact with her warm, distinct humanity began immediately to work a +change in his mind. Absent, he had decided that he could dispose of her +as he would. Present, he recognized that she would have a voice, and +probably a casting voice, in the disposal of herself. He might sever her +from her friends in the Forest, but he would not thereby attach her to +friends and kinsfolk in the north. His last wanton act of selfish +unkindness, in refusing to let her see her old home in passing, was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>evidently producing its effect in silent grieving, in resentment and +revolt.</p> + +<p>All his life long Mr. Fairfax had coveted affection, and had missed the +way to win it. No one had ever really loved him except his sister +Dorothy—so he believed; and Elizabeth was so like Dorothy in the face, +in her air, her voice, her gestures, that his heart went out to her with +a yearning that was almost pain. But when he looked at her, she looked +at him again like Dorothy alienated—like Dorothy grown strange. It was +a very curious revival out of the far past. When he was a young man and +Lady Latimer was a girl, there had been a prospect of a double marriage +between their families, but the day that destroyed one hope destroyed +both, and Dorothy Fairfax died of that grief. Elizabeth, with her +tear-worn eyes, was Dorothy's sad self to-night, only the eyes did not +seek his friendly. They were gazing at pictures in the fire when he +rejoined her, and though Bessie moved and raised her head in courteous +recognition of his coming, there was something of avoidance in her +manner, as if she shrank from his inspection. Perhaps she did; she had +no desire to parade her distresses or to reproach him with them. She +meant to be good—only give her time. But she must have time.</p> + +<p>There was a book of photographs on the table that Frederick Fairfax and +his wife had collected during their wedding-tour on the Continent. It +was during the early days of the art, and the pictures were as blurred +and faded as their lives had since become. Bessie was turning them over +with languid interest, when her grandfather, perceiving how she was +employed, said he could show her some foreign views that would please +her better than those dim photographs. He unlocked a drawer in the +writing-table and produced half a dozen little sketch-books, his own and +his sister Dorothy's during their frequent travels together. It seemed +that their practice had been to make an annual tour.</p> + +<p>While Bessie examined the contents of the sketch-books, her grandfather +stood behind her looking over her shoulder, and now and then saying a +few words in explanation, though most of the scenes were named and +dated. They were water-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>color drawings—bits of landscape, picturesque +buildings, grotesque and quaint figures, odd incidents of foreign life, +all touched with tender humor, and evidently by a strong and skilful +hand; and flowers, singly or in groups, full of a delicate fancy. In the +last volume of the series there were no more flowers; the scenes were of +snow-peaks and green hills, of wonderful lake-water, and boats with +awnings like the hood of a tilted cart; and the sky was that of Italy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, these are lovely, but why are there no more flowers?" said Bessie +thoughtlessly.</p> + +<p>"Dorothy had given up going out then," said her grandfather in a low, +strained voice.</p> + +<p>Bessie caught her breath as she turned the next page, and came on a +roughly washed-in mound of earth under an old wall where a white cross +was set. A sudden mist clouded her sight, and then a tear fell on the +paper.</p> + +<p>"That is where she was buried—at Bellagio on Lake Como," said Mr. +Fairfax, and moved away.</p> + +<p>Bessie continued to gaze at the closing page for several minutes without +seeing it; then she turned back the leaves preceding, and read them +again, as it were, in the sad light of the end. It was half a feint to +hide or overcome her emotion, for her imagination had figured to her +that last mournful journey. Her grandfather saw how she was +affected—saw the trembling of her hand as she paused upon the sketches +and the furtive winking away of her tears. Dear Bessie! smiles and tears +were so easy to her yet. If she had dared to yield to a natural impulse, +she would have shut the melancholy record and have run to comfort +him—would have clasped her hands round his arm and laid her cheek +against his shoulder, and have said, "Oh, poor grandpapa!" with most +genuine pity and sympathy. But he stood upon the hearth with his back to +the fire, erect, stiff as a ramrod, with gloom in his eyes and lips +compressed, and anything in the way of a caress would probably have +amazed more than it would have flattered him. Bessie therefore refrained +herself, and for ever so long there was silence in the room, except for +the ticking of the clock on the chimney-piece and the occasional +dropping of the ashes from the bars. At last she left looking at the +sketches and mechanically reverted to the photographs <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>upon which Mr. +Fairfax came out of his reverie and spoke again. She was weary, but the +evening was now almost over.</p> + +<p>"I do not like those sun-pictures. They are not permanent, and a +water-color drawing is more pleasing to begin with. You can draw a +little, Elizabeth? Have you any sketches about Caen or Bayeux?"</p> + +<p>Bessie modestly said that she had, and went to bring them; school-girl +fashion, she wished to exhibit her work, and to hear that the money +spent on her neglected education had not been all spent in vain. Her +grandfather was graciously inclined to commend her productions. He told +her that she had a nice touch, and that it was quite worth her while to +cultivate her talent. "It will add a great interest to your travels when +you have the chance of travelling," he said; "for, like life itself, +travelling has many blank spaces that a taste for sketching agreeably +fills up. Ten o'clock already? Yes—good-night."</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>The following morning Mr. Fairfax and Bessie walked to church together. +Along the road everybody acknowledged the squire with bow or curtsey, +and the little children stood respectfully at gaze as he passed. He +returned the civility of all by lifting a forefinger to his hat, though +he spoke to none, and Bessie was led to understand that he had the +confidence of his people, and that he probably deserved it. For a sign +that there was no bitterness in his own feelings, each token of regard +was noted by her with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>At the lodge Colonel and Mrs. Stokes joined them, and Mrs. Stokes's +bright eyes frankly appreciated the elegant simplicity of Bessie's +attire, her chip bonnet and daisies, her dress of French spun silk, +white and violet striped, and perfectly fitting Paris gloves. She nodded +meaningly to Bessie, and Bessie smiled back her full comprehension that +the survey was satisfactory and pleasing.</p> + +<p>Some old customs still prevailed at Kirkham. The humble congregation was +settled in church before the squire entered his red-curtained pew, and +sat quiet after sermon until the squire went out. Bessie's thoughts +roved often during the service. Mr. Forbes read apace, and the clerk +sang out the responses like an echo with no time to lose. There had been +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>a death in the village during the past week, and the event was now +commemorated by a dirge in which the children's shrill treble was +supported by the majority of the congregation. The sermon also took up +the moral of life and death. It was short and pithy; perhaps it was +familiar, and none the less useful for that. Mr. Forbes was not +concerned to lead his people into new ways; he believed the old were +better. Work and pray, fear God and keep His commandments, love your +neighbor, and meddle not with those who are given to change,—these were +his cardinal points, from which he brought to bear on their consciences +much powerful doctrine and purifying precept. He was a man of high +courage and robust faith, who practised what he preached, and bore that +cheerful countenance which is a sign of a heart in prosperity.</p> + +<p>After service Colonel and Mrs. Stokes walked home with Mr. Fairfax and +Bessie, lunched at Abbotsmead, and lounged about the garden afterward. +This was an institution. Sunday is long in country houses, and good +neighbors help one another to get rid of it. The Stokes's boys came in +the afternoon, to Bessie's great joy; they made a noisy playground of +the garden, and behaved just like Jack and Tom and Willie Carnegie, +kicking up their heels and laughing at nothing.</p> + +<p>"There are no more gooseberries," cried their mother, catching the +younger of the two, a bluff copy of herself, and offering him to Bessie +to kiss. Bessie kissed him heartily. "You are fond of children, I can +see," said her new friend.</p> + +<p>"I like a houseful! Oh, when have I had a nice kiss at a boy's hard, +round cheeks? Not for years! years! I have five little brothers and two +sisters at home."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stokes regarded Bessie with a touched surprise, but she asked no +questions; she knew her story in a general inaccurate way. The boy gazed +in her face with a pretty lovingness, rubbed his nose suddenly against +hers, wrestled himself out of her embrace, and ran away. "When you feel +as if you want a good kiss, come to my house," said his mother, her blue +eyes shining tenderly. "It must be dreadful to miss little children when +you have lived with them. I could not bear it. Abbotsmead always looks +to me like a great dull splendid prison."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>"My grandfather makes it as pleasant to me as he can; I don't repine," +said Bessie quickly. "He has given me a beautiful little filly to ride, +but she is not quite trained yet; and I shall beg him to let me have a +companionable dog; I love a dog."</p> + +<p>The church-bells began to ring for afternoon service. Mrs. Stokes shook +her head at Bessie's query: nobody ever went, she said, but servants and +poor people. Evening service there was none, and Mr. Forbes dined with +the squire; that also was an institution. The gentlemen talked of +parochial matters, and Bessie, wisely inferring that they could talk +more freely in her absence, left them to themselves and retreated to her +private parlor, to read a little and dream a great deal of her friends +in the Forest.</p> + +<p>At dusk there was a loud jangling indoors and out, and Mrs. Betts +summoned her young lady down stairs. She met her grandfather and Mr. +Forbes issuing from the dining-room, and they passed together into the +hall, where the servants of the house stood on parade to receive their +pastor and master. They were assembled for prayers. Once a week, after +supper, this compliment was paid to the Almighty—a remnant of ancient +custom which the squire refused to alter or amend. When Bessie had +assisted at this ceremony she had gone through the whole duty of the +day, and her reflection on her experience since she came to Abbotsmead +was that life as a pageant must be dull—duller than life as a toil.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> + +<h3><i>A DISCOVERY.</i></h3> + +<p>While Bessie Fairfax was pronouncing the web of her fortunes dull, Fate +was spinning some mingled threads to throw into the pattern and give it +intricacy and liveliness. The next day Mrs. Stokes chaperoned her to +Norminster in quest of that blue bonnet. Mrs. Betts went also, and had a +world of shopping to help in on behalf of her young mistress. They drove +from the station first to the chief tailor's in High <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>street, the +ladies' habitmaker, then to the fashionable hosier, the fashionable +haberdasher. By three o'clock Bessie felt herself flagging. What did she +want with so many fine clothes? she inquired of Mrs. Stokes with an air +of appeal. She was learning that to get up only one character in life as +a pageant involves weariness, labor, pains, and money.</p> + +<p>"You are going to stay at Brentwood," rejoined her chaperone +conclusively.</p> + +<p>"And is it so dull at Brentwood that dressing is a resource?" Bessie +demurred.</p> + +<p>"Wait and see. You will have pleasant occupation enough, I should think. +Most girls would call this an immense treat. But if you are really tired +we will go to Miss Jocund now. Mrs. Betts can choose ribbons and +gloves."</p> + +<p>Miss Jocund was a large-featured woman of a grave and wise countenance. +She read the newspaper in intervals of business, and was reading it now +with her glasses on. Lowering the paper, she recognized a favorite +customer in Mrs. Stokes, and laid the news by, but with reluctance. Duty +forbade, however, that this lady should be remitted to an assistant.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Jocund, but it is important—it is +about a bonnet," cried Mrs. Stokes gayly. "I have brought you Miss +Fairfax of Abbotsmead. I am sure you will make her something quite +lovely."</p> + +<p>Miss Jocund took off her glasses, and gave Bessie a deliberate, +discerning look-over. "Very happy, ma'am, indeed. Blue, of course?" she +said. Bessie acquiesced. "Any taste, any style?" the milliner further +queried.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Give me always simplicity and no imitations," was the +unhesitating, concise reply.</p> + +<p>"Miss Fairfax and I understand one another. Anything more to-day, +ladies?" Bessie and Mrs. Stokes considered for a moment, and then said +they would not detain Miss Jocund any longer from her newspaper. "Ah, +ladies! who can exist altogether on <i>chiffons</i>?" rejoined the milliner, +half apologetically. "I do love my <i>Times</i>—I call it my 'gentleman.' I +cannot live without my gentleman. Yes, ladies, he does smell of tobacco. +That is because he spends a day and night in the bar-parlor of the +Shakespeare Tavern before he visits me. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>So do evil communications +corrupt good manners. The door, Miss Lawson. Good-afternoon, ladies."</p> + +<p>"You must not judge of Miss Jocund as a milliner and nothing more," her +chaperone instructed Bessie when they had left the shop. "She is a lady +herself. Her father was Dr. Jocund, the best physician in Norminster +when you could find him sober. He died, and left his daughter with only +debts for a fortune; she turned milliner, and has paid every sixpence of +them."</p> + +<p>Where were they to go next? Bessie recollected that her uncle Laurence +lived in the vicinity of the minster, and that she had an errand to him +from her grandfather. She had undertaken it cheerfully, feeling that it +would be a pleasure to see her kind uncle Laurence again. There was a +warmth of geniality about him that was absent from her uncle Frederick +and her grandfather, and she had decided that if she was to have any +friend amongst her kinsfolk, her uncle Laurence would be that friend. +She was sure that her father, whom she barely knew, had been most like +him.</p> + +<p>It was not far to Minster Court, and they directed their steps that way. +The streets of Norminster still preserve much of their picturesque +antiquity, but they are dull, undeniably dull, except on the occasion of +assizes, races, fairs, and the annual assembling of the yeomanry and +militia. Elections are no more the saturnalia they used to be in the +good old times. Bessie was reminded of Bayeux and its sultry drowsiness +as they passed into the green purlieus of the minster and under a +low-browed archway into a spacious paved court, where the sun slept on +the red-brick backs of the old houses. Mr. Laurence Fairfax's door was +in the most remote corner, up a semi-circular flight of steps, guarded +on either side by an iron railing.</p> + +<p>As the two ladies approached the steps a young countrywoman came down +them, saying in a mingled strain of persuasion and threat, "Come, Master +Justus: if you don't come along this minute, I'll tell your granma." And +a naughty invisible voice made an answer with lisping defiance, "Well, +go, Sally, go. Be quick! go before your shoes wear out."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stokes, rounding her pretty eyes and pretty mouth, cried softly, +"Oh, what a very rude little boy!" And the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>very rude little boy +appeared in sight, hustled coaxingly behind by the stout respectable +housekeeper of Mr. Laurence Fairfax. When he saw the strange ladies he +stood stock-still and gazed at them as bold as Hector, and they gazed at +him again in mute amazement—a cherub of four years old or thereabouts, +with big blue eyes and yellow curls. When he had satisfied himself with +gazing, he descended the steps and set off suddenly at a run for the +archway. The housekeeper had a flushed, uneasy smile on her face as she +recognized Mrs. Stokes—a smile of amused consternation, which the +little lady's shocked grimace provoked. Bessie herself laughed in +looking at her again, and the housekeeper rallied her composure enough +to say, "Oh, the self-will and naughtiness there is in boys, ma'am! But +you know it, having boys of your own!"</p> + +<p>"Too well, Mrs. Burrage, too well! Is Mr. Laurence Fairfax at home?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say that he is not, ma'am. May I make bold to ask if the +young lady is Miss Fairfax from Abbotsmead, that was expected?"</p> + +<p>Bessie confessed to her identity, and while Mrs. Stokes wrote the name +of Miss Fairfax on one of her own visiting-cards (for Bessie was still +unprovided), Burrage begged, as an old servant of the house, to offer +her best wishes and to inquire after the health of the squire. They were +interrupted by that rude little boy, who came running back into the +court with Sally in pursuit. He was shouting too at the top of his +voice, and making its solemn echoes ring again. Burrage with sudden +gravity watched what would ensue. Capture ensued, and a second evasion +into the street. Burrage shook her head, as who would say that Sally's +riotous charge was far beyond her control—which indubitably he was—and +Bessie forgot her errand entirely. Whose was that little boy, the +picture of herself? Mrs. Stokes recovered her countenance. They turned +to go, and were halfway across the court when the housekeeper called +after them in haste: "Ladies, ladies! my master has come in by the +garden way, if you will be pleased to return?" and they returned, +neither of them by word or look affording to the other any intimation of +her profound reflections.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>Mr. Laurence Fairfax received his visitors with a frank welcome, and +bade Burrage bring them a cup of tea. Mrs. Stokes soon engaged him in +easy chat, but Bessie sat by in perplexed rumination, trying to +reconcile the existence of that little flaxen-haired boy with her +preconceived notions of her bachelor uncle. The view of him had let in a +light upon her future that pleased while it confused her. The reason it +pleased her she would discern as her thoughts cleared. At this moment +she was dazzled by a series of surprises. First, by the sight of that +cherub, and then by the order that reigned through this quaint and +narrow house where her learned kinsman lived. They had come up a winding +stair into a large, light hall, lined with books and peopled by marble +sages on pedestals, from which opened two doors—the one into a small +red parlor where the philosopher ate, the other into a long room looking +to the garden and the minster, furnished with the choicest collections +of his travelled youth. The "omnibus" of Canon Fournier used to be all +dusty disorder. Bessie's silence and her vagrant eyes misled her uncle +into the supposition that his old stones, old canvases, and ponderous +quartoes interested her curiosity, and noticing that they settled at +length, with an intelligent scrutiny, on some object beyond him, he +asked what it was, and moved to see.</p> + +<p>Nothing rich, nothing rare or ancient—only the tail and woolly +hind-quarters of a toy lamb extruded from the imperfectly closed door of +a cupboard below a bookcase. Instantly he jumped up and went to shut the +cupboard; but first he must open it to thrust in the lamb, and out it +tumbled bodily, and after it a wagon with red wheels and black-spotted +horses harnessed thereto. As he awkwardly restored them, Mrs. Stokes +never moved a muscle, but Bessie smiled irrepressibly and in her uncle's +face as he returned to his seat with a fine confusion blushing thereon. +At that moment Burrage came in with the tea. No doubt Mrs. Stokes was +equally astonished to see a nursery-cupboard in a philosopher's study, +but she could turn her discourse to circumstances with more skill than +her unworldly companion, and she resumed the thread of their interrupted +chat with perfect composure. Mr. Laurence Fairfax could not, however, +take her cue, and he rose with readiness at the first movement of the +ladies to go. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>began to say to Bessie that she must make his house +her home when she wanted to come to Norminster, and that he should +always be glad of her company. Bessie thanked him, and as she looked up +in his benevolent face there was a pure friendliness in her eyes that he +responded to by a warm pressure of her hand. And as he closed the door +upon them he dismissed his sympathetic niece with a most kind and +kinsman-like nod.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stokes began to laugh when they were clear of the house: "A pretty +discovery! Mr. Laurence Fairfax has a little playfellow: suppose he +should turn out to be a married man?" cried she under her breath. "So +that is the depth of his philosophy! My Arthur will be mightily amused."</p> + +<p>"What a darling little naughty boy that was!" whispered Bessie, also +laughing. "How I should like to have him at Abbotsmead! What fun it +would be!"</p> + +<p>"Mind, you don't mention him at Abbotsmead. Mr. Fairfax will be the last +to hear of him; the mother must be some unpresentable person. If Mr. +Laurence Fairfax is married, it will be so much the worse for you."</p> + +<p>"Nothing in the way of little Fairfax boys can be the worse for me," was +Bessie's airy, pleasant rejoinder. And she felt exhilarated as by a +sudden, sunshiny break in the cloudy monotony of her horizon.</p> + +<p>Mr. Laurence Fairfax returned to his study when he had parted with his +visitors, and there he found Burrage awaiting him. "Sir," she said with +a gravity befitting the occasion, "I must tell you that Master Justus +has been seen by those two ladies."</p> + +<p>"And Master Justus's pet lamb and cart and horses," quoth her master as +seriously. "You had thrown the toys into the cupboard too hastily, or +you had not fastened the door, and the lamb's legs stuck out. Miss +Fairfax made a note of them."</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, if you would but let Mr. John Short speak before the story +gets round to your respected father the wrong way!" pleaded Burrage. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax did not answer her. She said no more, but shook her +head and went away, leaving him to his reflections, which were more +mischievous than the reflections of philosophers are commonly supposed +to be.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>Bessie returned to Kirkham a changed creature. Her hopefulness had +rallied to the front. Her mind was filled with blithe anticipations +founded on that dear little naughty boy and his incongruous cupboard of +playthings in her uncle's study.</p> + +<p>If there was a boy for heir to Abbotsmead, nobody would want her; she +might go back to the Forest. Secrets and mysteries always come out in +the end. She had sagacity enough to know that she must not speak of what +she had seen; if the little boy was openly to be spoken of, he would +have been named to her. But she might speculate about him as much as she +pleased in the recesses of her fancy. And oh what a comfort was that!</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax at dinner observed her revived animation, and asked for an +account of her doings in Norminster. Then, and not till then, did Bessie +recollect his message to her uncle Laurence, and penitently confessed +her forgetfulness, unable to confess the occasion of it. "It is of no +importance; I took the precaution of writing to him this afternoon," +said her grandfather dryly, and Bessie's confusion was doubled. She +thought he would never have any confidence in her again. Presently he +said, "This is the last evening we shall be alone for some time, +Elizabeth. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister Mary, whom you have seen, +will arrive to-morrow, and on Thursday you will go with me to Lady +Angleby's for a few nights. I trust you will be able to make a friend of +Miss Burleigh."</p> + +<p>To this long speech Bessie gave her attention and a submissive assent, +followed by a rather silly wish: "I wish it was to Lady Latimer's we +were going instead of to Lady Angleby's; I don't like Lady Angleby."</p> + +<p>"That does not much matter if you preserve the same measure of courtesy +toward her as if you did," rejoined her grandfather. "It is unnecessary +to announce your preferences and prejudices by word of mouth, and it +would be unpardonable to obtrude them by your behavior. It is not of +obligation that because she is a grand lady you should esteem her, but +it is of obligation that you should curtsey to her; you understand me? +Do not let your ironical humor mislead you into forgetting the first +principle of good manners—to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>render to all their due." Mr. Fairfax +also had read Pascal.</p> + +<p>Bessie's cheeks burned under this severe admonition, but she did not +attempt to extenuate her fault, and after a brief silence her +grandfather said, to make peace, "It is not impossible that your longing +to see Lady Latimer may be gratified. She still comes into Woldshire at +intervals, and she will take an interest in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +election." But Bessie felt too much put down to trust herself to speak +again, and the rest of the meal passed in a constrained quiet.</p> + +<p>This was not the way towards a friendly and affectionate understanding. +Nevertheless, Bessie was not so crushed as she would have been but for +the vision of that unexplained cherub who had usurped the regions of her +imagination. If the time present wearied her, she had gained a wide +outlook to a <i>beyond</i> that was bright enough to dream of, to inspire her +with hope, and sustain her against oppression. Mr. Fairfax discerned +that she felt her bonds more easy—perhaps expecting the time when they +would be loosed. His conjectures for a reason why were grounded on the +confidential propensities of women, and the probability that Mrs. +Stokes, during their long <i>tête-à-tête</i> that day, had divulged the plots +for her wooing and wedding. How far wide of the mark these conjectures +were he would learn by and by. Meanwhile, as the effect of the unknown +magic was to make her gayer, more confident, and more interested in +passing events, he was well pleased. His preference was for sweet +acquiescence in women, but, for an exception, he liked his granddaughter +best when she was least afraid of him.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> + +<h3><i>PRELIMINARIES.</i></h3> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh met Bessie Fairfax again with a courteous vivacity +and an air of intimate acquaintance. If he was not very glad to see her +he affected gladness well, and Bessie's vivid blushes were all the +welcome that was necessary to delude the witnesses into a belief that +they already <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>understood one another. He was perfectly satisfied +himself, and his sister Mary, who worshipped him, thought Bessie sweetly +modest and pretty. And her mind was at peace for the results.</p> + +<p>There was a dinner-party at Abbotsmead that evening. Colonel and Mrs. +Stokes came, and Mr. Forbes and his mother, who lived with him (for he +was unmarried), a most agreeable old lady. It was much like other +dinner-parties in the country. The guests were all of one mind on +politics and the paramount importance of the landed interest, which gave +a delightful unanimity to the conversation. The table was round, so that +Miss Fairfax did not appear conspicuous as the lady of the house, but +she was not for that the less critically observed. Happily, she was +unconscious of the ordeal she underwent. She looked lovely in the face, +but her dress was not the elaborate dress of the other ladies; it was +still her prize-day white muslin, high to the throat and long to the +wrists, with a red rose in her belt, and an antique Normandy gold cross +for her sole ornament. The cross was a gift from Madame Fournier. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh, being seated next to her, was most condescending in his +efforts to be entertaining, and Bessie was not quite so uneasy under his +affability as she had been on board the yacht. Mrs. Stokes, who had +heard much of the Tory candidate, but now met him for the first time, +regarded him with awe, impressed by his distinguished air and fine +manners. But Bessie was more diffident than impressed. She did not talk +much; everybody else was so willing to talk that it was enough for her +to look charming. Once or twice her grandfather glanced towards her, +wishing to hear her voice—which was a most tunable voice—in reply to +her magnificent neighbor, but Bessie sat in beaming, beautiful silence, +lending him her ears, and at intervals giving him a monosyllabic reply. +She might certainly have done worse. She might have spoken foolishly, or +she might have said what she occasionally thought in contradiction of +his solemn opinions. And surely this would have been unwise? Her silence +was pleasing, and he wished for nothing in her different from what she +seemed. He liked her youthfulness, and approved her simplicity as an +eminently teachable characteristic; and if she was not able greatly to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>interest or amuse him, perhaps that was not from any fault or +deficiency in herself, but from circumstances over which she had no +control. An old love, a true love, unwillingly relinquished, is a +powerful rival.</p> + +<p>The whole of the following day was at his service to walk and talk with +Bessie if he and she pleased, but Bessie invited Miss Burleigh into her +private parlor and went into seclusion. That was after breakfast, and +Mr. Cecil made a tour of the stables with the squire, and saw Janey take +her morning gallop. Then he spoke in praise of Janey's mistress while on +board the Foam, and with all the enthusiasm at his command of his own +hopes. They had not become expectations yet.</p> + +<p>"It is uphill work with Elizabeth," said her grandfather. "She cares for +none of us here."</p> + +<p>"The harder to win the more constant to keep," replied the aspirant +suitor cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"I shall put no pressure on her. Here is your opportunity, and you must +rely on yourself. She has a heart for those who can reach it, but my +efforts have fallen short thus far." This was not what the squire had +once thought to say.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh did not admire gushing, demonstrative women, and a +gushing wife would have wearied him inexpressibly. He felt an attraction +in Bessie's aloofness, and said again, "She is worth the pains she will +cost to win: a few years will mature her fine intelligence and make of +her a perfect companion. I admire her courageous simplicity; there is a +great deal in her character to work upon."</p> + +<p>"She is no cipher, certainly; if you are satisfied, I am," said Mr. +Fairfax resignedly. "Yet it is not flattering to think that she would +toss up her cap to go back to the Forest to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Then she is loyal in affection to very worthy people. I have heard of +her Forest friends from Lady Latimer."</p> + +<p>"Lady Latimer has a great hold on Elizabeth's imagination. It would be a +good thing if she were to pay a visit to Hartwell; she might give her +young devotee some valuable instructions. Elizabeth is prejudiced +against me, and does not fall into her new condition so happily as I was +led to anticipate that she might."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>"She will wear to it. My sister Mary has an art of taming, and will +help her. I prefer her indifference to an undue elation: that would +argue a commonness of mind from which I imagine her to be quite free."</p> + +<p>"She has her own way of estimating us, and treats the state and luxury +of Abbotsmead as quite external to her. In her private thoughts, I fear, +she treats them as cumbrous lendings that she will throw off after a +season, and be gladly quit of their burden."</p> + +<p>"Better so than in the other extreme. A girl of heart and mind cannot be +expected to identify herself suddenly with the customs of a strange +rank. She was early trained in the habits of a simple household, but +from what I see there can have been nothing wanting of essential +refinement in Mrs. Carnegie. There is a crudeness in Miss Fairfax +yet—she is very young—but she will ripen sound and sweet to the core, +or I am much mistaken in the quality of the green fruit."</p> + +<p>The squire replied that he had no reason to believe his granddaughter +was otherwise than a good girl. And with that they left discussing her +and fell upon the election. Mr. Cecil Burleigh had a good courage for +the encounter, but he also had received intimations not to make too sure +of his success. The Fairfax influence had been so long in abeyance, so +long only a name in Norminster, that Mr. John Short began to quake the +moment he began to test it. Once upon a time Norminster had returned a +Fairfax as a matter of course, but for a generation its tendencies had +been more and more towards Liberalism, and at the last election it had +returned its old Whig member at the head of the poll, and in lieu of its +old Tory member a native lawyer, one Bradley, who professed Radicalism +on the hustings, but pruned his opinions in the House to the useful +working pattern of a supporter of the ministry. This prudent gentleman +was considered by a majority of his constituents not to have played +fair, and it was as against him, traitor and turncoat, that the old +Tories and moderate Conservatives were going to try to bring in Mr. +Cecil Burleigh. Both sides were prepared to spend money, and Norminster +was enjoying lively anticipations of a good time coming.</p> + +<p>While the gentlemen were thus discoursing to and fro the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>terrace under +the library window, Miss Burleigh in Bessie's parlor was instructing her +of her brother's political views. It is to be feared that Bessie was +less interested than the subject deserved, and also less interested in +the proprietor of the said views than his sister supposed her to be. She +listened respectfully, however, and did not answer very much at random, +considering that she was totally ignorant beforehand of all that was +being explained to her. At length she said, "I must begin to read the +newspapers. I know much better what happened in the days of Queen +Elizabeth than what has happened in my own lifetime;" and then Miss +Burleigh left politics, and began to speak of her brother's personal +ambition and personal qualities; to relate anecdotes of his signal +success at Eton and at Oxford; to expatiate on her own devotion to him, +and the great expectations founded by all his family upon his high +character and splendid abilities. She added that he had the finest +temper in the world, and that he was ardently affectionate.</p> + +<p>Bessie smiled at this. She believed that she knew where his ardent +affections were centred; and then she blushed at the tormenting +recollection of how she had interpreted his assiduities to herself +before making that discovery. Miss Burleigh saw the blush, seeming to +see nothing, and said softly, "I envy the woman who has to pass her life +with Cecil. I can imagine nothing more contenting than his society to +one he loves."</p> + +<p>Bessie's blush was perpetuated. She would have liked to mention Miss +Julia Gardiner, but she felt a restraining delicacy in speaking of what +had come to her knowledge in such a casual way, and more than ever +ashamed of her own ridiculous mistake. Suddenly she broke out with an +odd query, at the same moment clapping her hands to her traitorous +cheeks: "Do you ever blush at your own foolish fancies? Oh, how tiresome +it is to have a trick of blushing! I wish I could get over it."</p> + +<p>"It is a trick we get over quite early enough. The fancies girls blush +at are so innocent. I have had none of that pretty sort for a long +while."</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh looked sympathetic and amused. Bessie was silent for a few +minutes and full of thought. Presently, in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>musing, meditative voice, +she said, "Ambition! I suppose all men who have force enough to do great +things long for an opportunity to do them; and that we call ambition. +Harry Musgrave is ambitious. He is going to be a lawyer. What can a +famous lawyer become?"</p> + +<p>"Lord chancellor, the highest civil dignity under the Crown."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall set my mind on seeing Harry lord chancellor," cried Bessie +with bold conclusion.</p> + +<p>"And when he retires from office, though he may have held it for ever so +short a time, he will have a pension of five thousand a year."</p> + +<p>"How pleasant! What a grateful country! Then he will be able to buy +Brook and spend his holidays there. Dear old Harry! We were like brother +and sister once, and I feel as if I had a right to be proud of him, as +you are of your brother Cecil. Women have no chance of being ambitious +on their own account, have they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Women are as ambitious of rank, riches, and power as men are; +and some are ambitious of doing what they imagine to be great deeds. You +will probably meet one at Brentwood, a most beautiful lady she is—a +Mrs. Chiverton."</p> + +<p>Bessie's countenance flashed: "She was a Miss Hiloe, was she not—Ada +Hiloe? I knew her. She was at Madame Fournier's—she and a younger +sister—during my first year there."</p> + +<p>"Then you will be glad to meet again. She was married in Paris only the +other day, and has come into Woldshire a bride. They say she is showing +herself a prodigy of benevolence round her husband's magnificent seat +already: she married him that she might have the power to do good with +his immense wealth. There must always be some self-sacrifice in a lofty +ambition, but hers is a sacrifice that few women could endure to pay."</p> + +<p>Bessie held her peace. She had been instructed how all but impossible it +is to live in the world and be absolutely truthful; and what perplexed +her in this new character of her old school-fellow she therefore +supposed to be the veil of glamour which the world requires to have +thrown over an ugly, naked truth.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>About eleven o'clock the two young ladies walked out across the park +towards the lodge, to pay a visit to Mrs. Stokes. Then they walked on to +the village, and home again by the mill. The morning seemed long drawn +out. Then followed luncheon, and after it Mr. Cecil Burleigh drove in an +open carriage with Bessie and his sister to Hartwell. The afternoon was +very clear and pleasant, and the scenery sufficiently varied. On the +road Bessie learnt that Hartwell was the early home of Lady Latimer, and +still the residence of her bachelor brother and two maiden sisters.</p> + +<p>The very name of Lady Latimer acted like a spell on Bessie. She had been +rather silent and reserved until she heard it, and then all at once she +roused up into a vivid interest. Mr. Cecil Burleigh studied her more +attentively than he had done hitherto. Miss Burleigh said, "Lady Latimer +is another of our ambitious women. Miss Fairfax fancies women can have +no ambition on their own account, Cecil. I have been telling her of Mrs. +Chiverton."</p> + +<p>"And what does Miss Fairfax say of Mrs. Chiverton's ambition?" asked Mr. +Cecil Burleigh.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," rejoined Bessie. But her delicate lip and nostril expressed a +great deal.</p> + +<p>The man of the world preferred her reticence to the wisest speech. He +mused for several minutes before he spoke again himself. Then he gave +air to some of his reflections: "Lady Latimer has great qualities. Her +marriage was the blunder of her youth. Her girlish imagination was +dazzled by the name of a lord and the splendor of Umpleby. It remains to +be considered that she was not one of the melting sort, and that she +made her life noble."</p> + +<p>Here Miss Burleigh took up the story: "That is true. But she would have +made it more noble if she had been faithful to her first love—to your +grandfather, Miss Fairfax."</p> + +<p>Bessie colored. "Oh, were they fond of each other when they were young?" +she asked wondering.</p> + +<p>"Your grandfather was devoted to her. He had just succeeded to +Abbotsmead. All the world thought it would be a match, and great +promotion for her too, when she met Lord Latimer. He was sixty and she +was nineteen, and they lived <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>together thirty-seven years, for he +survived into quite extreme old age."</p> + +<p>"And she had no children, and my grandfather married somebody else?" +said Bessie with a plaintive fall in her voice.</p> + +<p>"She had no children, and your grandfather married somebody else. Lady +Latimer was a most excellent wife to her old tyrant."</p> + +<p>Bessie looked sorrowful: "Was he a tyrant? I wonder whether she ever +pities herself for the love she threw away? She is quite alone—she +would give anything that people should love her now, I have heard them +say in the Forest."</p> + +<p>"That is the revenge that slighted love so often takes. But she must +have satisfaction in her life too. She was always more proud than +tender, except perhaps to her friend, Dorothy Fairfax. You have heard of +your great-aunt Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have succeeded to her rooms, to her books. My grandfather says I +remind him of her."</p> + +<p>"Dorothy Fairfax never forgave Lady Latimer. They had been familiar +friends, and there was a double separation. Oh, it is quite a romance! +My aunt, Lady Angleby, could tell you all about it, for she was quite +one with them at Abbotsmead and Hartwell in those days; indeed, the +intimacy has never been interrupted. And you know Lady Latimer—you +admire her?"</p> + +<p>"I used to admire her enthusiastically. I should like to see her again."</p> + +<p>After this there was silence until the drive ended at Hartwell. Bessie +was meditating on the glimpse she had got into the pathetic past of her +grandfather's life, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister were +meditating upon her.</p> + +<p>Hartwell was a modest brick house within a garden skirting the road. It +had a retired air, as of a poor gentleman's house whose slender fortunes +limit his tastes: Mr. Oliver Smith's fortunes were very slender, and he +shared them with two maiden sisters. The shrubs were well grown and the +grass was well kept, but there was no show of the gorgeous scentless +flowers which make the gardens of the wealthy so gay and splendid in +summer. Ivy clothed the walls, and old-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>fashioned flowers bloomed all +the year round in the borders, but it was not a very cheerful garden in +the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Two elderly ladies were pacing the lawn arm-in-arm, with straw hats +tilted over their noses, when the Abbotsmead carriage stopped at the +gate. They stood an instant to see whose it was, and then hurried +forward to welcome their visitors.</p> + +<p>"This is very kind, Mr. Cecil, very kind, Miss Mary; but you always are +kind in remembering old friends," said the elder, Miss Juliana, and then +was silent, gazing at Bessie.</p> + +<p>"This is Miss Fairfax," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. "Lady Latimer has no +doubt named her in her letters."</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes, yes—what am I dreaming about? Charlotte," turning to her +sister, "who is she like?"</p> + +<p>"She is like poor Dorothy," was the answer in a tremulous, solemn voice. +"What will Oliver say?"</p> + +<p>"How long is it since Lady Latimer saw you, my dear?" asked Miss +Juliana.</p> + +<p>"Three years. I have not been home to the Forest since I left it to go +to school in France."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Then that accounts for our sister not having mentioned to us your +wonderful resemblance to your great-aunt, Dorothy Fairfax. Three years +alter and refine a child's chubby face into a young woman's face."</p> + +<p>Miss Juliana seemed to be thrown into irretrievable confusion by +Bessie's apparition and her own memory. She was quite silent as she led +the way to the house, walking between Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister. +Miss Charlotte walked behind with Bessie, and remarked that she was +pleased to have a link of acquaintance with her already by means of Lady +Latimer. Bessie asked whether Lady Latimer was likely soon to come into +Woldshire.</p> + +<p>"We have not heard that she has any present intention of visiting us. +Her visits are few and far between," was the formal reply.</p> + +<p>"I wish she would. When I was a little girl she was my ideal of all that +is grand, gracious, and lovely," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>Bessie's little outbreak had done her good, had set her tongue at +liberty. Her self-consciousness was growing less obtrusive. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh explained to her the legal process of an election for a member +of Parliament, and Miss <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>Burleigh sat by in satisfied silence, observing +the quick intelligence of her face and the flattered interest in her +brother's. At the park gates, Mr. Fairfax, returning from a visit to one +of his farmsteads where building was in progress, met the carriage and +got in. His first question was what Mr. Oliver Smith had said about the +coming election, and whether he would be in Norminster the following +day.</p> + +<p>The news about Buller troubled him no little, to judge by his +countenance, but he did not say much beyond an exclamation that they +would carry the contest through, let it cost what it might. "We have +been looking forward to this contest ever since Bradley was returned +five years ago; we will not be so faint-hearted as to yield without a +battle. If we are defeated again, we may count Norminster lost to the +Conservative interest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk of defeat! We shall be far more likely to win if we +refuse to contemplate the possibility of defeat," cried Bessie with +girlish vivacity.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh laughed and said, "Miss Fairfax is right. She will +wear my colors and I will adopt her logic, and, ostrich-like, refuse to +see the perils that threaten me."</p> + +<p>"No, no," remonstrated Bessie casting off her shy reserve under +encouragement. "So far from hiding your face, you must make it familiar +in every street in Norminster. You must seek if you would find, and ask +if you would have. I would. I should hate to be beaten by my own +neglect, worse than by my rival."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was electrified at this brusque assertion of her sentiments +by his granddaughter. Her audacity seemed at least equal to her shyness. +"Very good advice, Elizabeth; make him follow it," said he dryly.</p> + +<p>"We will give him no rest when we have him at Brentwood," added Miss +Burleigh. "But though he is so cool about it, I believe he is dreadfully +in earnest. Are you not, Cecil?"</p> + +<p>"I will not be beaten by my own neglect," was his rejoinder, with a +glance at Bessie, blushing beautifully.</p> + +<p>They did not relapse into constraint any more that day. There was no +addition to the company at dinner, and the evening being genially warm, +they enjoyed it in the garden. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Miss Fairfax even +strolled as far as the ruins in the park, and on the way he enlightened +her respecting some of his opinions, tastes, and prejudices. She heard +him attentively, and found him very instructive. His clever conversation +was a compliment to which, as a bright girl, she was not insensible. His +sister had detailed to him her behavior on her introduction to Lady +Angleby, and had deplored her lively sense of the ridiculous. Miss +Burleigh had the art of taming that her brother credited her with, and +Elizabeth was already at ease and happy with her—free to be herself, as +she felt, and not always on guard and measuring her words; and the more +of her character that she revealed, the better Miss Burleigh liked her. +Her gayety of temper was very attractive when it was kept within due +bounds, and she had a most sweet docility of tractableness when +approached with caution. At the close of the evening she retired to her +white parlor with a rather exalted feeling of responsibility, having +promised, at Mr. Cecil Burleigh's instigation, to study certain essays +of Lord Bacon on government and seditions in states for the informing of +her mind. She took the volume down from Dorothy Fairfax's bookshelf, and +laid it on her table for a reminder. Miss Burleigh saw it there in the +morning.</p> + +<p>"Ah, dear Cecil! He will try to make you very wise and learned," said +she, nodding her head and smiling significantly. "But never mind: he +waltzes to perfection, and delights in a ball, no man more."</p> + +<p>"Does he?" cried Bessie, amused and laughing. "That potent, grave, and +reverend signor can condescend, then, to frivolities! Oh, when shall we +have a ball that I may waltz with him?"</p> + +<p>"Soon, if all go successfully at the election. Lady Angleby will give a +ball if Cecil win and you ask her."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> ask her! But I should never dare."</p> + +<p>"She will be only too glad of the opportunity, and you may dare anything +with her when she is pleased. She has always been dear Cecil's fast +friend, and his triumph will be hers. She will want to celebrate it +joyously, and nothing is really so joyous as a good dance. We will have +a good dance."</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>BESSIE SHOWS CHARACTER.</i></h3> + +<p>At breakfast, Mr. Fairfax handed a letter to Bessie. "From home, from my +mother," said she in a glad undertone, and instantly, without apology, +opened and read it. Mr. Cecil Burleigh took a furtive observation of her +while she was thus occupied. What a good countenance she had! how the +slight emotion of her lips and the lustrous shining under her dark +eyelashes enhanced her beauty! It was a letter to make her happy, to +give her a light heart to go to Brentwood with. Mrs. Carnegie was always +sympathetic, cheerful, and loving in her letters. She encouraged her +dear Bessie to reconcile herself to absence, and attach herself to her +new home by cultivating all its sources of interest, and especially the +affection of her grandfather. She gave her much tender, reasonable +advice for her guidance, and she gave her good news: they were all well +at home and at Brook, and Harry Musgrave had come out in honors at +Oxford. The sunshine of pure content irradiated Bessie's face. She +looked up; she wanted to communicate her joy. Her grandfather looked up +at the same moment, and their eyes met.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to read it? It is from my mother," she said, holding out +the letter with an impulse to be good to him.</p> + +<p>"I can trust you with your correspondence, Elizabeth," was his reply.</p> + +<p>She drew back her hand quickly, and laid down the letter by her plate. +She sipped her tea, her throat aching, her eyes swimming. The squire +began to talk rather fast and loud, and in a few minutes, the meal being +over, he pushed away his chair and left the room.</p> + +<p>"The train we go into Norminster by reaches Mitford Junction at ten +thirty-five," observed Mr. Cecil Burleigh.</p> + +<p>Bessie rose and vanished with a mutinous air, which made him laugh and +whisper to his sister, as she disappeared, that the young lady had a +rare spirit. Mr. Fairfax was in the hall. She went swiftly up to him, +and laying a hand on his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>arm, said, in a quivering, resolute voice, +"Read my letter, grandpapa. If you will not recognize those I have the +best right to love, we shall be strangers always, you and I."</p> + +<p>"Come up stairs: I will read your letter," said the old man shortly, and +he mounted to her parlor, she still keeping her hold on his arm. He +stood at her table and read it, and laid it down without a word, but, +glancing aside at her pleasing face, he was moved to kiss her, and then +promptly effected his escape from her tyranny. He was not displeased, +and Bessie was triumphant.</p> + +<p>"Now we can begin to be friends," she cried softly, clapping her hands. +"I refuse to be frightened. I shall always tell him my news, and make +him listen. If he is sarcastic, I won't care. He will respect me if I +assert my right to be respected, and maintain that my father and mother +at Beechhurst have the first and best claim on my love. He shall not +recognize them as belonging only to my past life; he shall acknowledge +them as belonging to me always. And Harry too!"</p> + +<p>These strong resolutions arising out of that letter from the Forest +exhilarated Bessie exceedingly. There was perhaps more guile in her than +was manifest on slight acquaintance, but it was the guile of a wise, +warm heart. All trace of emotion had passed away when she came down +stairs, and when her grandfather, assisting her into the carriage, +squeezed her fingers confidentially, her new, all-pervading sense of +happiness was confirmed and established. And the courage that happiness +inspires was hers too.</p> + +<p>At Mitford Junction, Colonel and Mrs. Stokes and Mr. Oliver Smith joined +their party, and they travelled to Norminster together. The old city was +going quietly about its business much as usual when they drove through +the streets to the "George," where Mr. Cecil Burleigh was to meet his +committee and address the electors out of the big middle bow-window. +Miss Jocund's shop was nearly opposite to the inn, and thither the +ladies at once adjourned, that Bessie might assume her blue bonnet. The +others were already handsomely provided. Miss Jocund was quite at +liberty to attend to them at this early hour of the day—her "gentleman" +had not come in yet—and she conducted them to her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>show-room over the +shop with the complacent alacrity of a milliner confident that she is +about to give supreme satisfaction. And indeed Mrs. Stokes cried out +with rapture, the instant the bonnet filled her eye, that it was "A +sweet little bonnet—blue crape and white marabouts!"</p> + +<p>Bessie smiled most becomingly as it was tried on, and blushed at herself +in the glass. "But a shower of rain will spoil it," she objected, +nodding the downy white feathers that topped the brim. She was +proceeding philosophically to tie the glossy broad strings in a bow +under her round chin when Miss Jocund stepped hastily to the rescue, and +Mrs. Betts entered with a curtsey, and a blue silk slip on her arm. +"What next?" Bessie demanded of the waiting-woman in rosy consternation.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid we must trouble you, Miss Fairfax, but not much, I hope," +insinuated Miss Jocund with a queer, deprecating humility. "There is a +good half hour to spare. Since Eve put on a little cool foliage, female +dress has developed so extensively that it is necessary to try some +ladies on six times to avoid a misfit. But your figure is perfectly +proportioned, and I resolved, for once, to chance it on my knowledge of +anatomy, supplemented by an embroidered dress from your wardrobe. If you +<i>will</i> be <i>so</i> kind: a stitch here and a stitch there, and my delightful +duty is accomplished."</p> + +<p>Miss Jocund's speeches had always a touch of mockery, and Bessie, being +in excellent spirits, laughed good-humoredly, but denied her request. +"No, no," said she, "I will not be so kind. Your lovely blue bonnet +would be thrown away if I did not look pleasant under it, and how could +I look pleasant after the painful ordeal of trying on?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stokes, with raised eyebrows, was about to remonstrate, Mrs. Betts, +with flushed dismay, was about to argue, when Miss Jocund interposed; +she entered into the young lady's sentiments: "Miss Fairfax has spoken, +and Miss Fairfax is right. A pleasant look is the glory of a woman's +face, and without a pleasant look, if I were a single gentleman a woman +might wear a coal-scuttle for me."</p> + +<p>At this crisis there occurred a scuffle and commotion on the stairs, and +Bessie recognized a voice she had heard elsewhere—a loud, ineffectual +voice—pleading, "Master Justus, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>Master Justus, you are not to go to +your granny in the show-room;" and in Master Justus bounced—lovely, +delicious, in the whitest of frilly pinafores and most boisterous of +naughty humors.</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax stooped down and opened her arms with rapturous +invitation. "Come, oh, you bonnie boy!" and she caught him up, shook +him, kissed him, tickled him, with an exuberant fun that he evidently +shared, and frantically retaliated by pulling down her hair.</p> + +<p>This was very agreeable to Bessie, but Miss Jocund looked like an angry +sphinx, and as the defeated nurse appeared she said with suppressed +excitement, "Sally, how often must I warn you to keep the boy out of the +show-room? Carry him away." The flaxen cherub was born off kicking and +howling; Bessie looked as if she were being punished herself, Mrs. +Stokes stood confounded, Mrs. Betts turned red. Only Miss Burleigh +seemed unaffected, and inquired simply whose that little boy was. +"<i>Mine</i>, ma'am," replied the milliner with an emphasis that forbade +further question. But Miss Burleigh's reflective powers were awakened.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Betts, that woman of resources and experience, standing with the +blue silk slip half dropt on the Scotch carpet at her feet, reverted to +the interrupted business of the hour as if there had been no break. "And +if, when it comes to dressing this evening at Lady Angleby's, there's +not a thing that fits?" she bitterly suggested.</p> + +<p>"I will answer for it that everything fits," said Miss Jocund, +recovering herself with more effort. "I have worked on true principles. +But"—with a persuasive inclination towards Bessie—"if Miss Fairfax +will condescend to inspect my productions, she will gratify me and +herself also."</p> + +<p>As she spoke Miss Jocund threw open the door of an adjoining room, where +the said productions were elaborately laid out, and Mrs. Stokes ran in +to have the first view. Miss Burleigh followed. Bessie, with a rather +unworthy distrust, refused to advance beyond the doorway; but, looking +in, she beheld clouds upon clouds of blue and white puffery, tulle and +tarletan, and shining breadths of silk of the same delicate hues, with +fans, gloves, bows, wreaths, shoes, ribbons, sashes, laces—a portentous +confusion. After a few seconds of dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>turbed contemplation, during which +she was lending an ear to the remote shrieks of that darling boy, she +said—and surely it was provoking!—"The half would be better than the +whole. I am sorry for you, Mrs. Betts, if you are to have all those +works of art on your mind till they are worn out."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, miss, if you don't show more feeling, my mind will give way," +retorted Mrs. Betts. "It is the first time in my long experience that +ever a young lady so set me at defiance as to refuse to try on new +dresses. And all one's credit at stake upon her appearance! In a great +house like Brentwood, too!"</p> + +<p>Those piercing cries continued to rise higher and higher. Miss Jocund, +with a vexed exclamation, dropped some piece of finery on which she was +beginning to dilate, and vanished by another door. In a minute the noise +was redoubled with a passionate intensity. Bessie's eyes filled; she +knew that old-fashioned discipline was being administered, and her heart +ached dreadfully. She even offered to rush to the rescue, but Mrs. Betts +intercepted her with a stern "Better let me do up your hair, miss," +while Mrs. Stokes, moved by sympathetic tenderness, whispered, "Stop +your ears; it is necessary, <i>quite</i> necessary, now and then, I assure +you." Oh, did not Bessie know? had she not little brothers? When there +was silence, Miss Jocund returned, and without allusion to the nursery +tragedy resumed her task of displaying the fruits of her toils.</p> + +<p>Bessie, with a yearning sigh, composed herself, laid hands on her blue +bonnet while nobody was observing, and moved away to an open window in +the show-room that commanded the street. Deliberately she tied the +strings in the fashion that pleased her, and seated herself to look out +where a few men and boys were collecting on the edge of the pavement to +await the appearance of the Conservative candidate at the bow-window +over the portico of the "George." Presently, Mrs. Stokes joined her, +shaking her head, and saying with demure rebuke, "You naughty girl! And +this is all you care for pretty things?" Miss Burleigh, with more real +seriousness, hoped that the pretty things would be right. Miss Jocund +came forward with a natural professional anxiety to hear their opinions, +and when she saw the bonnet-strings tied clasped her hands in acute +regret, but said nothing. Mrs. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>Betts, a picture of injured virtue, held +herself aloof beyond the sea of finery, gazing across it at her +insensible young mistress with eyes of mournful indignation. Bessie felt +herself the object of general misunderstanding and reproach, and was +stirred up to extenuate her untoward behavior in a strain of mischievous +sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"Don't look so distressed, all of you," she pleaded. "How can I interest +myself to-day in anything but Mr. Cecil Burleigh's address to the +electors of Norminster and my own new bonnet?"</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> is very becoming, for a consolation," said the milliner with an +affronted air.</p> + +<p>"I think it is," rejoined Bessie coolly. "And if you will not bedizen me +with artificial flowers, and will exonerate me from wearing dresses that +crackle, I shall be happy. Did you not promise to give me simplicity and +no imitations, Miss Jocund?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot deny it, Miss Fairfax. Natural leaves and flowers are my +taste, and graceful soft outlines of drapery; but when it is the mode to +wear tall wreaths of painted calico, and to be bustled off in twenty +yards of stiff, cheap tarletan, most ladies conform to the mode, on the +axiom that they might as well be out of the world as out of the fashion. +And nothing comes up so ugly and outrageous but there are some who will +have it in the very extreme."</p> + +<p>"I am quite aware of the pains many women take to be displeasing, but I +thought you understood that was not 'my style, my taste,'" said Bessie, +quoting the milliner's curt query at their first interview.</p> + +<p>"I understand now, Miss Fairfax, that there are things here you would +rather be without. I will not pack up the tarletan skirts and artificial +flowers. With the two morning silks and two dinner silks, and the tulle +over the blue slip for a possible dance, perhaps you will be able to go +through your visit to Brentwood?"</p> + +<p>"I trust so," said Bessie. "But if I need anything more I will write to +you."</p> + +<p>There was an odd pause of silence, in which Bessie looked out of the +window, and the rest looked at one another with a furtive, defeated, +amused acknowledgment that this young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>lady, so ignorant of the world, +knew how to take her own part, and would not be controlled in the +exercise of her senses by any irregular, usurped authority. Mrs. Betts +saw her day-dream of perquisites vanish. Both she and Miss Jocund had +got their lesson, and they remembered it.</p> + +<p>A welcome interruption came with the sound of swift wheels and +high-stepping horses in the street, and the ladies pressed forward to +see. "Lady Angleby's carriage," said Miss Burleigh as it whirled past +and drew up at the "George." She was now in haste to be gone and join +her aunt, but Bessie lingered at the window to witness the great lady's +reception by the gentlemen who came out of the inn to meet her. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh was foremost, and Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Oliver Smith, Mr. +Forbes, and several more, yet strangers to Bessie, supported him. One +who bowed with extreme deference she recognized, at a second glance, as +Mr. John Short, her grandfather's companion on his memorable visit to +Beechhurst, which resulted in her severance from that dear home of her +childhood. The sight of him brought back some vexed recollections, but +she sighed and shook them off, and on Miss Burleigh's again inviting her +to come away to the "George" to Lady Angleby, she rose and followed her.</p> + +<p>"Look pleasant," said Miss Jocund, standing by the door as Bessie went +out, and Bessie laughed and was obedient.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> + +<h3><i>A QUIET POLICY.</i></h3> + +<p>Lady Angleby received Bessie Fairfax with a gracious affability, and if +Bessie had desired to avail herself of the privilege there was a cheek +offered her to kiss, but she did not appear to see it. Her mind was +running on that boy, and her countenance was blithe as sunshine. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax came forward to shake hands, and Mr. John Short +respectfully claimed her acquaintance. They were in a smaller room, +adjoining the committee-room, where the majority of the gentlemen had +assembled, and Bessie said to Miss Bur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>leigh, "We should see and hear +better in Miss Jocund's window;" but Miss Burleigh showed her that Miss +Jocund's window was already filled, and that the gathering on the +pavement was increasing. Soon after twelve it increased fast, with the +workmen halting during a few minutes of their hour's release for dinner, +but it never became a crowd, and the affair was much flatter than Bessie +had expected. The new candidate was introduced by Mr. Oliver Smith, who +spoke very briefly, and then made way for the candidate himself. Bessie +could not see Mr. Cecil Burleigh, nor hear his words, but she observed +that he was listened to, and jeeringly questioned only twice, and on +both occasions his answer was received with cheers.</p> + +<p>"You will read his speech in the <i>Norminster Gazette</i> on Saturday, or he +will tell you the substance of it," Miss Burleigh said. "Extremes meet +in politics as in other things, and much of Cecil's creed will suit the +root-and-branch men as well as the fanatics of his own party." Bessie +wondered a little, but said nothing; she had thought moderation Mr. +Cecil Burleigh's characteristic.</p> + +<p>A school of young ladies passed without difficulty behind the scanty +throng, and five minutes after the speaking was over the street was +empty.</p> + +<p>"Buller was not there," said Mr. John Short to Mr. Oliver Smith, and +from the absence of mirth amongst the gentlemen, Bessie conjectured that +there was a general sense of failure and disappointment.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh preserved his dignified composure, and came up to +Bessie, who said, "This is only the beginning?"</p> + +<p>"Only the beginning—the real work is all to do," said he, and entered +into a low-toned exposition thereof quite calmly.</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that Mr. John Short, happening to cast an eye upon +the two, received one of those happy inspirations that visit in +emergency men of superior resources and varied experience. At Lady +Angleby's behest the pretty ladies in blue bonnets set out to shop, pay +calls in the town, and show their colors, and the agent attached himself +to the party. They all left the "George" together, but it was not long +before they divided, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Bessie, having nowhere +particular where they wished to go, wandered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>towards the minster. Mr. +John Short, without considering whether his company might be acceptable, +adhered to them, and at length boldly suggested that they were not far +from the thoroughfare in which the "Red Lion" was situated, and that a +word from the aspirant candidate to Buller might not be thrown away.</p> + +<p>It was the hour of the afternoon when the host of the "Red Lion" sat at +the receipt of news and custom, smoking his pipe after dinner in the +shade of an old elm tree by his own door. He was a burly man, with a +becoming sense of his importance and weight in the world, and as honest +a desire to do his share in mending it as his betters. He was not to be +bought by any of the usual methods of electioneering sale and barter, +but he had a soft place in his heart that Mr. John Short knew of, and +was not therefore to be relinquished as altogether invulnerable.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh could not affect the jocose and familiar, but perhaps +his plain way of address was a higher compliment to the publican's +understanding. "Is it true, Buller, that you balance about voting again +for Bradley? Think of it, and see if you cannot return to the old flag," +was all he said.</p> + +<p>"Sir, I mean to think of it," replied Buller with equal directness. "I'm +pleased with what I hear of you, and I like a gentleman, but Bradley +explains his puzzling conduct very plausibly: it is no use being +factious and hindering business in the House, as he says. And it can't +be denied that there's Tory members in the House as factious as any of +them pestilent Radical chaps that get up strikes out of doors. I'm not +saying that you would be one of them, sir."</p> + +<p>"I hope not. For no party considerations would I hinder any advance or +reform that I believe to be for the good of the country."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear it, sir; you would be what we call an independent +member. My opinion is, sir, that sound progress feels its way and takes +one step at a time, and if it tries to go too fast it overleaps itself."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh was not prepared for political disquisition on the +pavement in front of the "Red Lion," but he pondered an instant on Mr. +Buller's platitude as if it were a new revelation, and then said with +quiet cordiality, "Well, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>think of it, and if you decide to give me your +support, it will be the more valuable as being given on conviction. +Good-day to you, Buller."</p> + +<p>The publican had risen, and laid aside his pipe. "Good-day to you, sir," +said he, and as Bessie inclined her fair head to him also, he bowed with +more confusion and pleasure than could have been expected from the host +of a popular tavern.</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short lingered behind, and as the beautiful young people +retired out of hearing, admiringly watched by the publican, the lawyer +plied his insinuating craft and whispered, "You are always a +good-natured man, Buller. Look at those two—<i>No election, no wedding</i>."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so!" ejaculated Buller with kindly sympathy in his voice. +"A pretty pair, indeed, to run in a curricle! I should think now his +word's as good as his bond—eh? Egad, then, I'll give 'em a plumper!"</p> + +<p>The agent shook hands with him on it delighted. "You are a man of your +word too, Buller. I thank you," he said with fervor, and felt that this +form of bribery and corruption had many excuses besides its success. He +did not intend to divulge by what means the innkeeper's pledge had been +obtained, lest his chief might not quite like it, and with a few nods, +becks, and half-words he ensured Buller's silence on the delicate family +arrangement that he had so prematurely confided to his ear. And then he +went back to the "George" with the approving conscience of an agent who +has done his master good secret service without risking any impeachment +of his honor. He fully expected that time would make his words true. +Unless in that confidence, Mr. Short was not the man to have spoken +them, even to win an election.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Miss Fairfax strolled a little farther, and then +retraced their steps to the minster, and went in to hear the anthem. +Presently appeared in the distance Mr. Fairfax and Miss Burleigh, and +when the music was over signed to them to come away. Lady Angleby was +waiting in the carriage at the great south door to take them home, and +in the beautiful light of the declining afternoon they drove out of the +town to Brentwood—a big, square, convenient old house, surrounded by a +pleasant garden divided from the high-road by a belt of trees.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>Mrs. Betts was already installed in the chamber allotted to her young +lady, and had spread out the pretty new clothes she was to wear. She was +deeply serious, and not disposed to say much after her morning's lesson. +Bessie had apparently dismissed the recollection of it. She came in all +good-humor and cheerfulness. She hummed a soft little tune, and for the +first time submitted patiently to the assiduities of the experienced +waiting-woman. Mrs. Betts did not fail to make her own reflections +thereupon, and to interpret favorably Miss Fairfax's evidently happy +preoccupation.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> + +<h3><i>A DINNER AT BRENTWOOD.</i></h3> + + +<p>There was rejoicing at Brentwood that evening. All the guests staying in +the house were assembled in the drawing-room before dinner, when Mr. +Oliver Smith, who had retained quarters at the "George," walked in with +an appearance of high satisfaction, and immediately began to say, "I +bring you good news. Buller has made up his mind to do the right thing, +Burleigh, and give you a plumper. He hailed my cab as I was passing the +'Red Lion' on my road here, and told me his decision. Do you carry +witchcraft about with you?"</p> + +<p>"Buller could not resist the old name and the old colors. Miss Fairfax +is my witchcraft," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh with a profound bow to +Bessie, in gay acknowledgment of her unconscious services.</p> + +<p>Bessie blushed with pleasure, and said, "Indeed, I never opened my +mouth."</p> + +<p>"Oh, charms work in silence," said Mr. Oliver Smith.</p> + +<p>Lady Angleby was delighted; Mr. Fairfax looked gratified, and gave his +granddaughter an approving nod.</p> + +<p>The next and last arrivals were Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton. Mr. Chiverton +was known to all present, but the bride was a stranger except to one or +two. She was attired in rich white silk—in full dress—so terribly +trying to the majority of women, and Bessie Fairfax's first thought on +seeing her again <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>was how much less beautiful she was than in her simple +<i>percale</i> dresses at school. She did not notice Bessie at once, but when +their eyes met and Bessie smiled, she ran to embrace her with expansive +cordiality. Bessie, her beaming comeliness notwithstanding, could assume +in an instant a touch-me-not air, and gave her hand only, though that +with a kind frankness; and then they sat down and talked of Caen.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chiverton's report as a woman of extraordinary beauty and virtue +had preceded her into her husband's country, but to the general observer +Miss Fairfax was much more pleasing. She also wore full dress—white +relieved with blue—but she was also able to wear it with a grace; for +her arms were lovely, and all her contours fair, rounded, and dimpled, +while Mrs. Chiverton's tall frame, though very stately, was very bony, +and her little head and pale, classical face, her brown hair not +abundant, and eyes too cold and close together, with that expression of +intense pride which is a character in itself, required a taste +cultivated amidst statuary to appreciate. This taste Mr. Chiverton +possessed, and his wife satisfied it perfectly.</p> + +<p>Bessie looked at Mr. Chiverton with curiosity, and looked quickly away +again, retaining an impression of a cur-like face with a fixed sneer +upon it. He was not engaged in conversation at the time; he was +contemplating his handsome wife with critical admiration, as he might +have contemplated a new acquisition in his gallery of antique marbles. +In his eyes the little girl beside her was a mere golden-haired, rosy, +plump rustic, who served as a foil to his wife's Minerva-like beauty.</p> + +<p>Lady Angleby was great lady enough to have her own by-laws of etiquette +in her own house, and her nephew was assigned to take Miss Fairfax to +dinner. They sat side by side, and were wonderfully sociable at one end +of the table, with the hostess and Mr. Fairfax facing them at the other. +Besides the guests already introduced, there was one other gentleman, +very young—Sir Edward Lucas—whose privilege it was to escort Mrs. +Chiverton. Mr. Forbes gave his arm to Miss Burleigh. Mr. Chiverton and +Mr. Oliver Smith had no ladies: Lady Angleby liked a preponderance of +gentlemen at her entertainments. Everybody talked and was pleasant, and +Bessie Fairfax felt almost at ease, so fast does confidence grow <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>in the +warm atmosphere of courtesy and kindness. When the ladies retired to the +drawing-room she was bidden to approach Lady Angleby's footstool, and +treated caressingly; while Mrs. Chiverton was allowed to converse on +philanthropic missions with Miss Burleigh, who yawned behind her fan and +marvelled at the splendor of the bride's jewels.</p> + +<p>In the dining-room conversation became more animated when the gentlemen +were left to themselves. Mr. Chiverton loved to take the lead. He had +said little during dinner, but now he began to talk with vivacity, and +was heard with the attention that must be paid to an old man possessed +of enormous wealth and the centre of great connexions. He was accustomed +to this deference, and cared perhaps for none other. He had a vast +contempt for his fellow-creatures, and was himself almost universally +detested. But he could bear it, sustained by the bitter tonic of his own +numerous aversions. One chief aversion was present at this moment in the +elegant person of Mr. Oliver Smith. Mr. Oliver Smith was called not too +strong in the head, but he was good, and possessed the irresistible +influence of goodness. Mr. Chiverton hated his mild tenacity. His own +temper was purely despotic. He had represented a division of the county +for several years, and had finally retired from Parliament in dudgeon at +the success of the Liberal party and policy. After some general remarks +on the approaching election, came up the problem of reconciling the +quarrel between labor and capital, then already growing to such +proportions that the whole community, alarmed, foresaw that it might +have ere long to suffer with the disputants. The immediate cause of the +reference was the fact of a great landowner named Gifford having asked +for soldiers from Norminster to aid his farmers in gathering in the +harvest, which was both early and abundant. The request had been +granted. The dearth of labor on his estates arose from various causes, +but primarily from there not being cottages enough to house the +laborers, his father and he having both pursued the policy of driving +them to a distance to keep down the rates.</p> + +<p>"The penuriousness of rich men is a constant surprise to me," said Mr. +Forbes. "Dunghill cottages are not so frequent as they were, but there +are still a vast number too <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>many. When old Gifford made a solitude +round him, Blagg built those reed-thatched hovels at Morte which +contribute more poor rogues to the quarter sessions than all the +surrounding parishes. That strip of debatable land is the seedbed of +crime and misery: the laborers take refuge in the hamlet, and herd +together as animals left to their own choice never do herd; but their +walk to and from their work is shortened by one half, and they have +their excuse. We should probably do the same ourselves."</p> + +<p>"The cottages of the small proprietors are always the worst," remarked +Mr. Chiverton.</p> + +<p>"If you and Gifford would combine to rebuild the houses you have allowed +to decay or have pulled down, Morte would soon be left to the owls and +the bats," said the clergyman. "By far the larger majority of the men +are employed on your farms, and it is no longer for your advantage that +their strength should be spent in walking miles to work—if ever it was. +You will have to do it. While Jack was left in brute ignorance, it was +possible to satisfy him with brute comforts and control him with brute +discipline; but teach Jack the alphabet, and he becomes as shrewd as his +master. He begins to consider what he is worth, and to readjust the +proportion between his work and his wages—to reflect that the larger +share of the profit is, perhaps, due to himself, seeing that he reaps by +his own toil and sweat, and his master reaps by the toil and sweat of a +score."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chiverton had manifested signs of impatience and irritability during +Mr. Forbes's address, and he now said, with his peculiar snarl for which +he was famous, "Once upon a time there was a great redistribution of +land in Egypt, and the fifth part of the increase was given to Pharaoh, +and the other four parts were left to be food to the sowers. If +Providence would graciously send us a universal famine, we might all +begin again on a new foundation."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we cannot wait for that—we must do something meanwhile," said Sir +Edward Lucas, understanding him literally. "I expect we shall have to +manage our land less exclusively with an eye to our own revenue from +it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chiverton testily interrupted the young man's words of wisdom: "The +fact is, Jack wants to be master himself. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>Strikes in the manufacturing +towns are not unnatural—we know how those mercantile people grind their +hands—but since it has come to strikes amongst colliers and miners, I +tremble at the prospect for the country. The spirit of insubordination +will spread and spread until the very plough-boys in the field are +infected."</p> + +<p>"A good thing, too, and the sooner the better," said Mr. Oliver Smith.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" cried Mr. Fairfax, but Mr. Forbes said that was what they were +coming to. Sir Edward Lucas listened hard. He was fresh from Oxford, +where boating and athletic exercises had been his chief study. His +father was lately dead, and the administration of a great estate had +devolved upon him. His desire was to do his duty by it, and he had to +learn how, that prospect not having been prepared for in his education, +further than by initiation in the field-sports followed by gentlemen.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chiverton turned on Mr. Oliver Smith with his snarl: "Your conduct +as a landowner being above reproach, you can afford to look on with +complacency while the rest of the world are being set by the ears."</p> + +<p>Mr. Oliver Smith had very little land, but as all there knew what he had +as well as he knew himself, he did not wince. He rejoined: "As a class, +we have had a long opportunity for winning the confidence of the +peasants; some of us have used it—others of us have neglected it and +abused it. If the people these last have held lordship over revolt and +transfer their allegiance to other masters, to demagogues hired in the +streets, who shall blame them?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose we all rise above reproach: I mean to try," said Sir Edward +Lucas with an eagerness of interest that showed his good-will. "Then if +my people can find a better master, let them go."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh turned to the young man: "It depends upon yourself +whether they shall find a better master or not. Resolve that they shall +not. Consider your duty to the land and those upon it as the vocation of +your life, and you will run a worthy career."</p> + +<p>Sir Edward was at once gratified and silenced. Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +reputation was greater yet than his achievement, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>but a man's +possibilities impress the young and enthusiastic even more than his +successes accomplished.</p> + +<p>"You hold subversive views, Burleigh—views to which the public mind is +not educated up, nor will be in this generation," said Mr. Chiverton. +"The old order of things will last my time."</p> + +<p>"Changes move fast now-a-days," said Mr. Fairfax. "I should like to see +a constitutional remedy provided for the Giffords of the gentry before I +depart. We are too near neighbors to be friends, and Morte adjoins my +property."</p> + +<p>"Gifford was brought up in a bad school—a vaporing fellow, not true to +any of his obligations," said Mr. Oliver Smith.</p> + +<p>"It is Blagg, his agent, who is responsible," began Mr. Chiverton.</p> + +<p>Mr. Oliver Smith interrupted contemptuously: "When a landlord permits an +agent to represent him without supervision, and refuses to look into the +reiterated complaints of his tenants, he gives us leave to suppose that +his agent does him acceptable service."</p> + +<p>"I have remonstrated with him myself, but he is cynically indifferent to +public opinion," said Mr. Forbes.</p> + +<p>"The public opinion that condemns a man and dines with him is not of +much account," said Mr. Oliver Smith, with a glance at Mr. Chiverton, +the obnoxious Gifford's very good friend.</p> + +<p>"Would you have him cut?" demanded Mr. Chiverton. "I grant you that it +is a necessary precaution to have his words in black and white if he is +to be bound by them—"</p> + +<p>"You could not well say worse of a gentleman than that, Chiverton—eh?" +suggested Mr. Fairfax.</p> + +<p>There was a minute's silence, and then Mr. Forbes spoke: "I should like +our legal appointments to include advocates of the poor, men of +integrity whose business it would be to watch over the rights and listen +to the grievances of those classes who live by laborious work and are +helpless to resist powerful wrong. Old truth bears repeating: these are +the classes who maintain the state of the world—the laborer that holds +the plough and whose talk is of bullocks, the carpenter, the smith, and +the potter. All these trust to their hands, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>are wise in their work, +and when oppression comes they must seek to some one of leisure for +justice. It is a pitiful thing to hear a poor man plead, 'Sir, what can +I do?' when his heart burns with a sense of intolerable wrong, and to +feel that the best advice you can give him is that he should bear it +patiently."</p> + +<p>"I call that too sentimental on your part, Forbes," remonstrated Mr. +Chiverton. "The laborers are quiet yet, and guidable as their own oxen, +but look at the trades—striking everywhere. Surely your smiths and +carpenters are proving themselves strong enough to protect their own +interests."</p> + +<p>"Yes, by the combination that we should all deprecate amongst our +laborers—only by that. Therefore the wise will be warned in time, for +such example is contagious. Many of our people have lain so long in +discontent that bitter distrust has come of it, and they are ready to +abandon their natural leaders for any leader who promises them more +wages and less toil. If the laborers strike, Smith's and Fairfax's will +probably stick to their furrows, and Gifford's will turn upon him—yours +too, Chiverton, perhaps." Mr. Forbes was very bold.</p> + +<p>"God forbid that we should come to that!" exclaimed Mr. Fairfax +devoutly. "We have all something to mend in our ways. Our view of the +responsibility that goes with the possession of land has been too +narrow. If we could put ourselves in the laborer's place!"</p> + +<p>"I shall mend nothing: no John Hodge shall dictate to me," cried Mr. +Chiverton in a sneering fury. "A man has a right to do what he likes +with his own, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"No, he has not; and especially not when he calls a great territory in +land his own," said Mr. Forbes. "That is the false principle out of +which the bad practice of some of you arises. A few have never been +guided by it—they have acted on the ancient law that the land is the +Lord's, and the profit of the land for all—and many more begin to +acknowledge that it is a false principle by which it is not safe to be +guided any longer. Pushed as far as it will go, the result is Gifford."</p> + +<p>"And myself," added Mr. Chiverton in a quieter voice as he rose from his +chair. Mr. Forbes looked at him. The old man made no sign of being +affronted, and they went together into the drawing-room, where he +introduced the clergyman <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>to his wife, saying, "Here, Ada, is a +gentleman who will back you in teaching me my duty to my neighbor;" and +then he went over to Lady Angleby.</p> + +<p>"You are on the side of the poor man, then, Mrs. Chiverton?" said Mr. +Forbes pleasantly. "It is certainly a legitimate sphere of female +influence in country neighborhoods."</p> + +<p>The stately bride drew her splendid dress aside to make room for him on +the ottoman, and replied in a measured voice, "I am. I tell Mr. +Chiverton that he does not satisfy the reasonable expectations of his +people. I hope to persuade him to a more liberal policy of management on +his immense estates; his revenue from them is very large. It distresses +me to be surrounded by a discontented tenantry, as it would do to be +waited on by discontented servants. A bad cottage is an eyesore on a +rich man's land, and I shall not rest until I get all Chiver-Chase +cleared of bad cottages and picturesquely inconvenient old farmsteads. +The people appeal to me already."</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax had come up while her old school-fellow was gratifying +Mr. Forbes's ears with her admirable sentiments. She could not forbear a +smile at the candid assertion of power they implied, and as Mr. Forbes +smiled too with a twinkle of amused surprise, Bessie said sportively, +"And if Mr. Chiverton is rebellious and won't take them away, then what +shall you do?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chiverton was dumb; perhaps this probability had not occurred to +her ruling mind. Mr. Forbes begged to know what Miss Fairfax herself +would do under such circumstances. Bessie considered a minute with her +pretty chin in the air, and then said, "I would not wear my diamonds. +Oh, I would find out a way to bring him to reason!"</p> + +<p>A delicate color suffused Mrs. Chiverton's face, and she looked proudly +at Bessie, standing in her bright freedom before her. Bessie caught her +breath; she saw that she had given pain, and was sorry: "You don't care +for my nonsense—you remember me at school," she whispered, and laid her +hand impulsively on the slim folded hands of the young married lady.</p> + +<p>"I remember that you found something to laugh at in almost +everything—it is your way," said Mrs. Chiverton coldly, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>and as her +flush subsided she appeared paler than before. She was so evidently hurt +by something understood or imagined in Bessie's innocent raillery that +Bessie, abashed herself, drew back her hand, and as Mr. Forbes began to +speak with becoming seriousness she took the opportunity of gliding away +to join Miss Burleigh in the glazed verandah.</p> + +<p>It was a dark, warm night, but the moon that was rising above the trees +gradually illumined it, and made the garden mysterious with masses of +shadow, black against the silver light. In the distance rose the ghostly +towers of the cathedral. Miss Burleigh feared that the grass was too wet +for them to walk upon it, but they paced the verandah until Mr. Cecil +Burleigh found them and the rising hum of conversation in the +drawing-room announced the appearance of the other gentlemen. Miss +Burleigh then went back to the company, and there was an opportunity for +kind words and soft whisperings between the two who were left, if either +had been thereto inclined; but Bessie's frank, girlish good-humor made +lovers' pretences impossible, and while Mr. Cecil Burleigh felt every +hour that he liked her better, he felt it more difficult to imply it in +his behavior. Bessie, on her side, fully possessed with the idea that +she knew the lady of his love, was fast throwing off all sense of +embarrassment in his kindness to herself; while onlookers, predisposed +to believe what they wished, interpreted her growing ease as an +infallible sign that his progress with her was both swift and sure.</p> + +<p>They were still at the glass door of the verandah when Mrs. Chiverton +sought Bessie to bid her good-night. She seemed to have forgotten her +recent offence, and said, "You will come and see me, Miss Fairfax, will +you not? We ought to be friends here."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," cried Bessie, who, when compunction touched her, was ready to +make liberal amends, "I shall be very glad."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chiverton went away satisfied. The other guests not staying in the +house soon followed, and when all were gone there was some discussion of +the bride amongst those who were left. They were of one consent that she +was very handsome and that her jewels were most magnificent.</p> + +<p>"But no one envies her, I hope?" said Lady Angleby.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>"You do not admire her motive for the marriage? Perhaps you do not +believe in it?" said Mr. Cecil Burleigh.</p> + +<p>"I quite believe that she does, but I do not commend her example for +imitation."</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh, lingering a few minutes in Miss Fairfax's room when they +went up stairs, delivered her mind on the matter. "My poor ambition +flies low," she said. "I could be content to give love for love, and do +my duty in the humblest station God might call me to, but not for any +sake could I go into the house of bondage where no love is. Poor Mrs. +Chiverton!"</p> + +<p>Bessie made a very unsentimental reply: "Poor Mrs. Chiverton, indeed! +Oh, but she does not want our pity! That old man is a slave to her, just +as the girls were at school. She adores power, and if she is allowed to +help and patronize people, she will be perfectly happy in her way. +Everybody does not care, first and last, to love and be loved. I have +been so long away from everybody who loves me that I am learning to do +without it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, don't fancy that," said Miss Burleigh, and she stroked +Bessie's face and kissed her. "Some of us here are longing to love you +quite as tenderly as any friends you have in the Forest." And then she +bade her good-night and left her to her ruminations.</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh's kiss brought a blush to Bessie's face that was slow to +fade even though she was alone. She sat thinking, her hands clasped, her +eyes dreamily fixed on the flame of the candle. Some incidents on board +the Foam recurred to her mind, and the blush burnt more hotly. Then, +with a sigh, she said to herself, "It is pleasant here, everybody is +good to me, but I wish I could wake up at Beechhurst to-morrow morning, +and have a ride with my father, and mend socks with my mother in the +afternoon. There one felt <i>safe</i>."</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Betts entered, complacent with +the flattering things that had been said of her young lady in the +steward's room, and willing to repeat them on the smallest +encouragement: "Miss Jocund is really cleverer than could have been +supposed, miss. Your white silk fits most beautiful," she began.</p> + +<p>"I was not conscious of being newly dressed to-night, so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>her work must +be successful," replied Bessie, untying the black velvet round her fair +throat. Mrs. Betts took occasion to suggest that a few more ornaments +would not be amiss. "I don't care for ornaments—I am fond of my old +cross," Bessie said, laying it in the rosy palm of her hand. Then +looking up with a melancholy, reflective smile, she said, "All the +shining stones in the world would not tempt me to sacrifice my liberty." +Mrs. Chiverton was in her thoughts, and Lady Latimer.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Betts had a shrewd discernment, and she was beginning to understand +her young lady's character, and to respect it. She had herself a vein of +feeling deeper than the surface; she had seen those she loved suffer, +and she spoke in reply to Miss Fairfax with heartfelt solemnity: "It is +a true thing, miss, and nobody has better cause than me to know it, that +happiness does not belong to rank and riches. It belongs nowhere for +certain, but them that are good have most of it. For let the course of +their lives run ever so contrary, they have a peace within, given by One +above, that the proud and craving never have. Mr. Frederick's wife—she +bears the curse that has been in her family for generations, but she had +a pious bringing-up, and, poor lady! though her wits forsook her, her +best comfort never did."</p> + +<p>"Some day, Mrs. Betts, I shall ask you to tell me her story," Bessie +said.</p> + +<p>"There is not much to tell, miss. She was the second Miss Lovel (her +sister and she were co-heiresses)—not to say a beauty, but a sweet +young lady, and there was a true attachment between her and Mr. +Frederick. It was in this very house they met—in this very house he +slept after that ball where he asked her to marry him. It is not telling +secrets to tell how happy she was. Your grandfather, the old squire, +would have been better pleased had it been some other lady, because of +what was in the blood, but he did not offer to stop it, and they lived +at Abbotsmead after they were married. The house was all new done-up to +welcome her; that octagon parlor was her design. She brought Mr. +Frederick a great fortune, and they loved one another dearly, but it did +not last long. She had a baby, and lost it, and was never quite herself +after. Poor thing! poor thing!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>"And my uncle Laurence's wife," said Bessie, not to dwell on that +tragedy of which she knew the issue.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Mr. Laurence's wife!" said Mrs. Betts in a quite changed tone. "I +never pitied a gentleman more. Folks who don't know ladies fancy they +speak and behave pretty always, but that lady would grind her teeth in +her rages, and make us fly before her—him too. She would throw whatever +was in her reach. She was a deal madder and more dangerous in her fits +of passion than poor Mrs. Frederick: she, poor dear! had a delusion that +she was quite destitute and dependent on charity, and when she could get +out she would go to the cottages and beg a bit of bread. A curious +delusion, miss, but it did not distress her, for she called herself one +of God's poor, and was persuaded He would take care of her. But it was +very distressing to those she belonged to. Twice she was lost. She +wandered away so far once that it was a month and over before we got her +back. She was found in Edinburgh. After that Mr. Frederick consented to +her being taken care of: he never would before."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Betts, don't tell me any more, or it will haunt me."</p> + +<p>"Life's a sorrowful tale, miss, at best, unless we have love here and a +hope beyond."</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> + +<h3><i>A MORNING AT BRENTWOOD</i>.</h3> + +<p>Brentwood was a comfortable house to stay in for visitors who never +wanted a moment's repose. Lady Angleby lived in the midst of her +guests—must have their interest, their sympathy in all her occupations, +and she was never without a press of work and correspondence. Bessie +Fairfax by noon next day felt herself weary without having done anything +but listen with folded hands to tedious dissertations on matters +political and social that had no interest for her. Since ten o'clock Mr. +Cecil Burleigh and Mr. Fairfax had withdrawn themselves, and were gone +into Norminster, and Miss Burleigh sat, a patient victim, with two dark +hollows under <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>her eyes—bearing up with a smile while ready to sink +with fatigue. The gentlemen did not return to luncheon, but a caller +dropped in—a clergyman, Mr. Jones; and Miss Burleigh took the +opportunity of his entrance to vanish, making a sign to Miss Fairfax to +come too. They went into the garden, where they were met by a vivacious, +pretty old lady, Miss Hague, a former governess of Miss Burleigh, who +now acted as assistant secretary to Lady Angleby.</p> + +<p>"Your enemy, Mr. Jones, is in the drawing-room with my aunt," Miss +Burleigh told her. "Quite by chance—he was not asked."</p> + +<p>"Oh, let him stay. It is a study to see him amble about her ladyship +with the airs and graces of a favorite, and then to witness his +condescension to inferior persons like me," said Miss Hague. "I'll go to +your room, Mary, and take off my bonnet."</p> + +<p>"Do, dear. We have only just escaped into the fresh air, and are making +the most of our liberty."</p> + +<p>Miss Hague lodged within a stone's throw of Brentwood, and Lady Angleby +was good in bidding her go to luncheon whenever she felt disposed. She +was disposed as seldom as courtesy allowed, for, though very poor, she +was a gentlewoman of independent spirit, and her ladyship sometimes +forgot it. She was engaged seeking some report amongst her papers when +Miss Hague entered, but she gave her a nod of welcome. Mr. Jones said, +"Ah, Miss Hague," with superior affability, and luncheon was announced.</p> + +<p>Lady Angleby had to give and hear opinions on a variety of subjects +while they were at table. Middle-class female education Mr. Jones had +not gone into. He listened and was instructed, and supposed that it +might easily be made better; nevertheless, he had observed that the best +taught amongst his candidates for confirmation came from the shopkeeping +class, where the parents still gave their children religious lessons at +home. Then ladies of refined habits and delicate feelings as mistresses +of elementary schools—that was a new idea to him. A certain robustness +seemed, perhaps, more desirable; teaching a crowd of imperfectly washed +little boys and girls was not fancy-work; also he believed that +essential propriety existed to the full as much amongst the young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>women +now engaged as amongst young ladies. If the object was to create a class +of rural school-mistresses who would take social rank with the curate, +he thought it a mistake; a school-mistress ought not to be above +drinking her cup of tea in a tidy cottage with the parents of her +pupils: he should prefer a capable young woman in a clean holland apron +with pockets, and no gloves, to any poor young lady of genteel tastes +who would expect to associate on equal terms with his wife and +daughters. Then, cookery for the poor. Here Mr. Jones fell inadvertently +into a trap. He said that the chief want amongst the poor was something +to cook: there was very little spending in twelve shillings a week, or +even in fifteen and eighteen, with a family to house, clothe, and feed. +Lady Angleby held a quite opposite view. She said that a helpless +thriftlessness was at the root of the matter. She had printed and +largely distributed a little book of receipts, for which many people had +thanked her. Mr. Jones knew the little book, and had heard his wife say +that Lady Angleby's receipt for stewed rabbits was well enough, but that +her receipt for hares stewed with onions was hares spoilt; and where +were poor people to get hares unless they went out poaching?</p> + +<p>"I assure your ladyship that agrimony tea is still drunk amongst our +widows, and an ounce of shop-tea is kept for home-coming sons and +daughters grown proud in service. They gather the herb in the autumn, +and dry it in bunches for the winter's use. And many is the laborer who +lets his children swallow the lion's share of his Sunday bit of meat +because the wife says it makes them strong, and children have not the +sense not to want all they see. Any economical reform amongst the +extravagant classes that would leave more and better food within reach +of the hard-working classes would be highly beneficial to both. +Sometimes I wish we could return to that sumptuary law of Queen +Elizabeth which commanded the rich to eat fish and fast from flesh-meat +certain days of the week." Here Mr. Jones too abruptly paused. Lady +Angleby had grown exceedingly red in the face; Bessie Fairfax had grown +rosy too, with suppressed reflections on the prize-stature to which her +hostess had attained in sixty years of high feeding. Queen Elizabeth's +pious fast might have been kept by her with much advantage to her +figure.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>Poor Mr. Jones had confused himself as well as Lady Angleby, but the +return to the drawing-room created an opportune diversion. He took up an +illustrated paper with a scene from a new play, and after studying it +for a few minutes began to denounce the amusements of the gay world in +the tone of a man who has known nothing of them, but has let his +imagination run into very queer illusions. This passed harmless. Nobody +was concerned to defend the actor's vocation where nobody followed it; +but Mr. Jones was next so ill-advised as to turn to Miss Hague, and say +with a supercilious air that since they last met he had been trying to +read a novel, which he mentioned by name—a masterpiece of modern +fiction—and really he could not see the good of such works. Miss Hague +and he had disagreed on this subject before. She was an inveterate +novel-reader, and claimed kindred with a star of chief magnitude in the +profession, and to speak lightly of light literature in her presence +always brought her out warmly and vigorously in defence and praise of +it.</p> + +<p>"No good in such works, Mr. Jones!" cried she. "My hair is gray, and +this is a solemn fact: for the conduct of life I have found far more +counsel and comfort in novels than in sermons, in week-day books than in +Sunday preachers!"</p> + +<p>There was a startled silence. Miss Burleigh extended a gentle hand to +stop the impetuous old lady, but the words were spoken, and she could +only intervene as moderator: "Novels show us ourselves at a distance, as +it were. I think they are good both for instruction and reproof. The +best of them are but the Scripture parables in modern masquerade. Here +is one—the Prodigal Son of the nineteenth century, going out into the +world, wasting his substance with riotous living, suffering, repenting, +returning, and rejoiced over."</p> + +<p>"Our Lord made people think: I am not aware that novels make people +think," said Mr. Jones with cool contempt.</p> + +<p>"Apply your mind to the study of either of these books—Mr. Thackeray's +or George Eliot's—and you will not find all its powers too much for +their appreciation," said Miss Hague.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones made a slight grimace: "Pray excuse the comparison, Miss +Hague, but you remind me of a groom of mine <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>whom I sent up to the Great +Exhibition. When he came home again all he had to say was, 'Oh, sir, the +saddlery was beautiful!'"</p> + +<p>"Nothing like leather!" laughed Lady Angleby.</p> + +<p>"He showed his wit—he spoke of what he understood," said Miss Hague. +"You undertake to despise light literature, of which avowedly you know +nothing. Tell me: of the little books and tracts that you circulate, +which are the most popular?"</p> + +<p>"The tales and stories; they are thumbed and blackened when the serious +pages are left unread," Mr. Jones admitted.</p> + +<p>"It is the same with the higher-class periodicals that come to us from +D'Oyley's library," said Lady Angleby, pointing to the brown, buff, +orange, green, and purple magazines that furnished her round-table. "The +novels are well read, so are the social essays and the bits of gossiping +biography; but dry chapters of exploration, science, discovery, and +politics are tasted, and no more: the first page or two may be opened, +and the rest as often as not are uncut. And as they come to Brentwood, +so, but for myself, they would go away. The young people prefer the +stories, and with rare exceptions it is the same with their elders. The +fact is worth considering. A puff of secular air, to blow away the vapor +of sanctity in which the clergy envelop themselves, might be salutary at +intervals. All fresh air is a tonic."</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones repeated his slight grimace, and said, "Will Miss Hague be so +kind as to tell me what a sermon ought to be? I will sit at her feet +with all humility."</p> + +<p>"With arrogant humility!—with the pride that apes humility," cried Miss +Hague with cheerful irreverence. "I don't pretend to teach you +sermon-making: I only tell you that, such as sermons mostly are, +precious little help or comfort can be derived from them."</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones again made his characteristic grimace, expressive of the +contempt for secular opinion with which he was morally so well +cushioned, but he had a kind heart and refrained from crushing his poor +old opponent with too severe a rejoinder. He granted that some novels +might be harmless, and such as he would not object to see in the hands +of his daughters; but as a general rule he had a prejudice against +fiction; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>and as for theatres, he would have them all shut up, for he +was convinced that thousands of young men and women might date their +ruin from their first visit to a theatre: he could tell them many +anecdotes in support of his assertions. Fortunately, it was three +o'clock. The butler brought in letters by the afternoon post, and the +anecdotes had to be deferred to a more convenient season. The clergyman +took his leave.</p> + +<p>Lady Angleby glanced through her sheaf of correspondence, and singled +out one letter. "From dear Lady Latimer," she said, and tore it open. +But as she read her countenance became exceedingly irate, and at the end +she tossed it over to Miss Hague: "There is the answer to your +application." The old lady did not raise her eyes immediately after its +perusal, and Miss Burleigh took it kindly out of her hand, saying, "Let +me see." Then Lady Angleby broke out: "I do not want anybody to teach me +what is my duty, I hope."</p> + +<p>Miss Hague now looked up, and Bessie Fairfax's kind heart ached to see +her bright eyes glittering as she faltered, "I think it is a very kind +letter. I wish more people were of Lady Latimer's opinion. I do not wish +to enter the Governesses' Asylum: it would take me quite away from all +the places and people I am fond of. I might never see any of you again."</p> + +<p>"How often must I tell you that it is not necessary you should go into +the asylum? You may be elected to one of the out-pensions if we can +collect votes enough. As for Lady Latimer reserving her vote for really +friendless persons, it is like her affectation of superior virtue." Lady +Angleby spoke and looked as if she were highly incensed.</p> + +<p>Miss Hague was trembling all over, and begging that nothing more might +be said on the subject.</p> + +<p>"But there is no time to lose," said her patroness, still more angrily. +"If you do not press on with your applications, you will be too late: +everybody will be engaged for the election in November. The voting-list +is on my writing-table—the names I know are marked. Go on with the +letters in order, and I will sign them when I return from my drive."</p> + +<p>Miss Fairfax's face was so pitiful and inquisitive that the substance of +Lady Latimer's letter was repeated to her. It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>was to the effect that +Miss Hague's former pupils were of great and wealthy condition for the +most part, and that they ought not to let her appeal to public charity, +but to subscribe a sufficient pension for her amongst themselves; and +out of the respect in which she herself held her, Lady Latimer offered +five pounds annually towards it. "And I think that is right," said +Bessie warmly. "If you were my old governess, Miss Hague, I should be +only too glad to subscribe."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear young lady, I was your father's governess and your +uncles' until they went to a preparatory school for Eton: from +Frederick's being four years old to Geoffry's being ten, I lived at +Abbotsmead," said Miss Hague. "And here is another of my boys," she +added as the door opened and Sir Edward Lucas was announced.</p> + +<p>"Then I will do what my father would have done had he been alive," said +Bessie. "Perhaps my uncle Laurence will too."</p> + +<p>"What were you saying of me, dear Hoddydoddy?" asked Sir Edward, turning +to the old lady when he had paid his devoirs to the rest.</p> + +<p>The matter being explained to him, he was eager to contribute his +fraction. "Then leave the final arrangement to me," said Lady Angleby. +"I will settle what is to be done. You need not write any more of those +letters, Miss Hague, and I trust these enthusiastic young people will +not tire of what they have undertaken. It is right, but if everybody did +what is right on such occasions there would be little use for benevolent +institutions. Sir Edward, we were going to drive into Norminster: will +you take a seat in my carriage?"</p> + +<p>Sir Edward would be delighted; and Miss Hague, released from her +ladyship's desk, went home happy, and in the midst of doubts and fears +lest she had hurt the feelings of Mr. Jones wept the soft tears of +grateful old age that meets with unexpected kindness. The resolute +expression of her sentiments by Miss Fairfax had inspired her with +confidence, and she longed to see that young lady again. In the letter +of thanks she wrote to Lady Latimer she did not fail to mention how her +judgment and example had been supported by that young disciple; and Lady +Latimer, revolving the news with pleasure, began to think of paying a +visit to Woldshire.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> + +<h3><i>SOME DOUBTS AND FEARS</i>.</h3> + +<p>Sir Edward Lucas was a gentleman for whom Lady Angleby had a +considerable degree of favor: it was a pity he was so young, otherwise +he might have done for Mary. Poor Mary! Mr. Forbes and she had a long, +obstinate kindness for each other, but Lady Angleby stood in the way: +Mr. Forbes did not satisfy any of her requirements. Besides, if she gave +Mary up, who was to live with her at Brentwood? Therefore Mr. Forbes and +Miss Burleigh, after a six years' engagement, still played at patience. +She did not drive into Norminster that afternoon. "Mr. Fairfax and Cecil +will be glad of a seat back," said she, and stood excused.</p> + +<p>Sir Edward Lucas had more pleasure in facing his contemporary: Miss +Fairfax he regarded as his contemporary. He was smitten with a lively +admiration for her, and in course of the drive he sought her advice on +important matters. Lady Angleby began to instruct him on what he ought +to do for the improvement of his fine house at Longdown, but he wanted +to talk rather of a new interest—the mineral wealth still waiting +development on his property at Hippesley Moor.</p> + +<p>"Now, what should you do, Miss Fairfax, supposing you had to earn your +bread by a labor always horribly disagreeable and never unattended by +danger?" he asked with great eagerness.</p> + +<p>Bessie had not a doubt of what she should do: "I should work as hard as +ever I could for the shortest possible time that would keep me in +bread."</p> + +<p>"Just so," said Sir Edward rubbing his hands. "So would I. Now, will +that principle work amongst colliers? I am going to open a pit at +Hippesley Moor, where the coal is of excellent quality. It is a fresh +start, and I shall try to carry out your principle, Miss Fairfax; I am +convinced that it is excellent and Christian."</p> + +<p><i>Christian!</i> Bessie's blue eyes widened with laughing alarm. "Oh, had +you not better consult somebody of greater experience?" cried she.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>Lady Angleby approved her modesty, and with smiling indulgence +remarked, "I should think so, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"No, no: experience is always for sticking to grooves," said Sir Edward. +"I like Miss Fairfax's idea. It is shrewd—it goes to the root of the +difficulty. We must get it out in detail. Now, if in three days' hard +work the collier can earn the week's wages of an agricultural laborer +and more—and he can—we have touched the reason why he takes so many +play-days. It would be a very sharp spur of necessity indeed that would +drive me into a coal-pit at all; and nothing would keep me there one +hour after necessity was satisfied. I shall take into consideration the +instinct of our common humanity that craves for some sweetness in life, +and as far as I am able it shall be gratified. Now, the other three +days: what shall be their occupation? Idleness will not do."</p> + +<p>"No, I should choose to have a garden and work in the sun," said Bessie, +catching some of his spirit.</p> + +<p>"And I should choose to tend some sort of live-stock. In the way of +minor industries I am convinced that a great deal may be put in their +way only by taking thought. I shall lay parcels of land together for +spade cultivation—the men will have a market at their own doors; then +poultry farms—"</p> + +<p>"Not forgetting the cock-pit for Sunday amusement," interrupted Lady +Angleby sarcastically. "You are too Utopian, Sir Edward. Your colony +will be a dismal failure and disappointment if you conduct it on such a +sentimental plan."</p> + +<p>Sir Edward colored. He had a love of approbation, and her ladyship was +an authority. He sought to propitiate her better opinion, and resumed: +"There shall be no inexorable rule. A man may work his six days in the +pit if it be his good-will, but he shall have the chance of a decent +existence above ground if he refuse to live in darkness and peril more +than three or four. Schools and institutes are very good things in their +place, and I shall not neglect to provide them, but I do not expect that +more than a slender minority of my colliers will ever trouble the +reading-room much. Let them feed pigs and grow roses."</p> + +<p>"They will soon not know what they want. The common people grow more +exacting every day—even our servants. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>You will have some fine stories +of trouble and vexation to tell us before long."</p> + +<p>Sir Edward looked discouraged, and Bessie Fairfax, with her impulsive +kind heart, exclaimed, "No, no! In all labor there is profit, and if you +work at doing your best for those who depend on your land, you will not +be disappointed. Men are not all ungrateful."</p> + +<p>Sir Edward certainly was not. He thanked Miss Fairfax energetically, and +just then the carriage stopped at the "George." Mr. Fairfax and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh came out in the most cheerful good-humor, and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh began to tell Bessie that she did not know how much she had +done for him by securing Buller's vote; it had drawn others after it. +Bessie was delighted, and was not withheld by any foolish shyness from +proclaiming that her mind was set on his winning his election.</p> + +<p>"You ought to take these two young people into your counsels, Cecil; +they have some wonderful devices for the promotion of contentment +amongst coal-miners," said Lady Angleby. Mr. Fairfax glanced in his +granddaughter's innocent, rosy face, and shook hands with Sir Edward as +he got out of the carriage. Mr. Cecil Burleigh said that wisdom was not +the monopoly of age, and then he inquired where they were going.</p> + +<p>They were going to call at the manor on Lady Eden, and to wind up with a +visit to Mr. Laurence Fairfax in the Minster Court. Mr. Fairfax said he +would meet them there, and the same said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. Sir Edward +Lucas stood halting on the inn-steps, wistfully hoping for a bidding to +come too. Lady Angleby was even kinder than his hopes; she asked if he +had any engagement for the evening, and when he answered in the negative +she invited him to come and dine at Brentwood again. He accepted with +joy unfeigned.</p> + +<p>When the ladies reached Minster Court only Mr. Cecil Burleigh had +arrived there. Lady Angleby was impatient to hear some private details +of the canvass, and took her nephew aside to talk of it. Mr. Laurence +Fairfax began to ask Bessie how long she was to stay at Brentwood. +"Until Monday," Bessie said; and her eyes roved unconsciously to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>the +cupboard under the bookcase where the toys lived, but it was fast shut +and locked, and gave no sign of its hid treasures. Her uncle's eyes +followed hers, and with a significant smile he said, if she pleased, he +would request her grandfather to leave her with him for a few days, +adding that he would find her some young companions. Bessie professed +that she would like it very much, and when Mr. Fairfax came in the +request was preferred and cordially granted. The squire was in high +good-humor with his granddaughter and all the world just now.</p> + +<p>Bessie went away from Minster Court with jubilant anticipations of what +might happen during the proposed visit to her uncle's house. One thing +she felt sure of: she would become better acquainted with that darling +cherub of a boy, and the vision she made of it shed quite a glow on the +prospect. She told Miss Burleigh when she returned to Brentwood that she +was not going out of reach on Monday; she was going to stay a few days +with her uncle Laurence in Minster Court.</p> + +<p>"Cecil will be so glad!" said his devoted sister.</p> + +<p>"There are no more Bullers to conquer, are there?" Bessie asked, turning +her face aside.</p> + +<p>"I hope not. Oh no! Cecil begins to be tolerably sure of his election, +and he will have you to thank for it. Mr. John Short blesses you every +hour of the day."</p> + +<p>Bessie laughed lightly. "I did good unconsciously, and blush to find it +fame," said she.</p> + +<p>A fear that her brother's success with Miss Fairfax might be doubtful, +though his election was sure, flashed at that instant into Miss +Burleigh's mind. Bessie's manner was not less charming, but it was much +more intrepid, and at intervals there was a strain of fun in it—of +mischief and mockery. Was it the subacid flavor of girlish caprice, +which might very well subsist in combination with her sweetness, or was +it sheer insensibility? Time would show, but Miss Burleigh retained a +lurking sense of uneasiness akin to that she had experienced when she +detected in Miss Fairfax, at their first meeting, an inclination to +laugh at her aunt—an uneasiness difficult to conceal and dangerous to +confess. Not for the world would she, at this stage of the affair, have +revealed her anxiety to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>her brother, who held the even tenor of his +way, whatever he felt—never obtrusive and never negligent. He treated +Bessie like the girl of sense she was, with courtesy, but without +compliments or any idle banter; and Bessie certainly began to enjoy his +society. He improved on acquaintance, and made the hours pass much more +pleasantly at Brentwood when he was there than they passed in his +absence. This was promising. The evening's dinner-party would have been +undeniably heavy without the leaven of his wit, for Mr. Logger, that +well-known political writer, had arrived from London in the course of +the afternoon, and Lady Angleby and he discoursed with so much solemn +allusion and innuendo on the affairs of the nation that it was like +listening surreptitiously at a cabinet council. Sir Edward Lucas was +quite silent and oppressed.</p> + +<p>Coming into the morning-room after breakfast on the following day armed +with a roll of papers, Mr. Logger announced, "I met our excellent friend +Lady Latimer at Summerhay last week; she is immensely interested in the +education movement."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax and Mr. Cecil Burleigh instantly discovered that it was time +they were gone into the town, and with one compunctious glance at +Bessie, of which she did not yet know the meaning, they vanished. The +roll in Mr. Logger's hand was an article in manuscript on that education +movement in which he had stated that his friend Lady Latimer was so +immensely interested; and he had the cruelty to propose to read it to +the ladies here. He did read it, his hostess listening with gratified +approval and keeping a controlling eye on Miss Fairfax, who, when she +saw what impended, would have escaped had she been able. Miss Burleigh +bore it as she bore everything—with smiling resignation—but she +enjoyed the vivacity of Bessie's declaration afterward that the lecture +was unpardonable.</p> + +<p>"What a shockingly vain old gentleman! Could we not have waited to read +his article in print?" said she.</p> + +<p>"Probably it will never be in print. He toadies my aunt, who likes to be +credited with a literary taste, but Cecil says people laugh at him; he +is not of any weight, either literary <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>or political, though he has great +pretensions. We shall have him for a week at least, and I have no doubt +he has brought manuscript to last the whole time."</p> + +<p>Bessie was so uncomfortably candid as to cry out that she was glad, +then, her visit would soon be over; and then she tried to extenuate her +plain-speaking, not very skilfully.</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh accepted her plea with a gentleness that reproached her: +"We hoped that you would be happy at Brentwood with Cecil here; his +company is generally supposed to make any place delightful. He is +exceedingly dear to us all; no one knows how good he is until they have +lived with him a long while."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am sure he is good; I like him much better now than I did at +first; but if he runs away to Norminster and leaves us a helpless prey +to Mr. Logger, that is not delightful," rejoined Bessie winsomely.</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh kissed and forgave her, acknowledged that it was the +reverse of delightful, and conveyed an intimation to her brother by +which he profited. Mr. Logger favored the ladies with another reading on +Sunday afternoon—an essay on sermons, and twice as long as one. Mr. +Jones should have been there: this essay was much heavier artillery than +Miss Hague's little paper-winged arrows. In the middle of it, just at +the moment when endurance became agony and release bliss, Mr. Cecil +Burleigh entered and invited Miss Fairfax to walk into the town to +minster prayers, and Bessie went so gladly that his sister was quite +consoled in being left to hear Mr. Logger to an end.</p> + +<p>The two were about to ascend the minster steps when they espied Mr. +Fairfax in the distance, and turned to meet him. He had been lunching +with his son. At the first glance Bessie knew that her grandfather had +suffered an overwhelming surprise since he went out in the morning. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh also perceived that something was amiss, and not to +distress his friend by inopportune remark, he said where he and Miss +Fairfax were going.</p> + +<p>"Go—go, by all means," said the squire. "Perhaps you may overtake me as +you return: I shall walk slowly, and I want a word with Short as I pass +his house." With this he went on, and the young people entered the +minster, thinking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>but not speaking of what they could not but +observe—his manifest bewilderment and pre-occupation.</p> + +<p>On the road home they did not, however, overtake Mr. Fairfax. He reached +Brentwood before them, and was closeted with Lady Angleby for some +considerable time previous to dinner. Her ladyship was not agreeable +without effort that evening, and there was indeed a perceptible cloud +over everybody but Mr. Logger. Whatever the secret, it had been +communicated to Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister, and it affected them +all more or less uncomfortably. Bessie guessed what had happened—that +her grandfather had seen his son Laurence's little playfellow, and that +there had been an important revelation.</p> + +<p>Bessie was right. Mr. Laurence Fairfax had Master Justus on his lap when +his father unexpectedly walked into his garden. There was a lady in blue +amongst the flowers who vanished; and the incompetent Sally, with +something in her arms, who also hastily retired, but not unseen, either +her or her burden. Master Justus held his ground with baby audacity, and +the old squire recognized a strong young shoot of the Fairfax stock. One +or two sharp exclamations and astounded queries elicited from Mr. +Laurence Fairfax that he had been five years married to the lady in +blue—a niece of Dr. Jocund—and that the bold little boy was his own, +and another in the nurse's arms. Mr. Fairfax did not refuse to sit at +meat with his son, though the chubby boy sat opposite, but he declined +all conversation on the subject beyond the bald fact, and expressed no +desire to be made acquainted with his newly-discovered daughter-in-law. +Indeed, at a hint of it he jerked out a peremptory negative, and left +the house without any more reference to the matter. Mr. Laurence Fairfax +feared that it would be long before his father would darken his doors +again, but it was a sensible relief to have got his secret told, and not +to have had any angry, unpardonable words about it. The squire said +little, but those who knew him knew perfectly that he might be silent +and all the more indignant. And undoubtedly he was indignant. Of his +three sons, Laurence had been always the one preferred; and this was his +usage of him, his confidence in him!</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>IN MINSTER COURT</i>.</h3> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax did not withdraw his consent to Elizabeth's staying in +Norminster with her uncle Laurence, and on Monday afternoon she and Mrs. +Betts were transferred from Brentwood to Minster Court. On the first +evening Mr. John Short dined there, but no one else. He made Miss +Fairfax happy by talking of the Forest, which he had revisited more than +once since the famous first occasion. After dinner the two gentlemen +remained together a long while, and Bessie amused herself alone in the +study. She cast many a look towards the toy-cupboard, and was strongly +tempted to peep, but did not; and in the morning her virtue had its +reward. It was a little after eleven o'clock when Burrage threw open the +door of the study where she was sitting with her uncle and announced +"The dear children, sir," in a matter-of-fact tone, as if they were +daily visitors.</p> + +<p>Bessie's back was to the door. She blushed and turned round with +brightened eyes, and there, behold! was that sweet little boy in a blue +poplin tunic, and a second little boy, a year smaller, in a white +embroidered frock and scarlet sash! The voice of the incompetent Sally +was heard in final exhortation, "Now, mind you be good, Master Justus!" +and Master Justus ran straight to the philosopher and saluted him +imperatively as "Dada!" which honorable title the other little boy +echoed in an imperfect lisp, with an eager desire to be taken up and +kissed. The desire was abundantly gratified, and then Mr. Laurence +Fairfax said, "This is Laury," and offered him to Bessie for a +repetition of the ceremonial.</p> + +<p>Bessie could not have told why, but her eyes filled as she took him into +her lap and took off his pretty hat to see his shining curly locks. +Master Justus was already at the cupboard dragging out the toys, and her +uncle stood and looked down at her with a pleased, benevolent face. "Of +course they are my cousins?" said Bessie simply, and quite as simply he +said "Yes."</p> + +<p>This was all the interrogatory. But games ensued in which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>Bessie was +brought to her knees and a seat on the carpet, and had the beautiful +propriety of her hair as sadly disarranged as in her gypsy childhood +amongst the rough Carnegie boys. Mrs. Betts put it tidy again before +luncheon, after the children were gone. Mrs. Betts had fathomed the +whole mystery, and would have been sympathetic about it had not her +young lady manifested an invincible gayety. Bessie hardly knew herself +for joy. She wanted very much to hear the romantic story that must +belong to those bonny children, but she felt that she must wait her +uncle's time to tell it. Happily for her peace, the story was not long +delayed: she learnt it that evening.</p> + +<p>This was the scene in Mr. Laurence Fairfax's study. He was seated at +ease in his great leathern chair, and perched on his knee, with one arm +round his neck and a ripe pomegranate cheek pressed against his ear, was +that winsome little lady in blue who was to be known henceforward as the +philosopher's wife: if she had not been so exquisitely pretty it would +have seemed a liberty to take with so much learning. Opposite to them, +and grim as a monumental effigy, sat Miss Jocund, and Bessie Fairfax, +with an amazed and amused countenance, listened and looked on. The +philosopher and his wife were laughing: they loved one another, they had +two dear little boys; what could the world give them or take away in +comparison with such joys? Their secret, long suspected in various +quarters, had transpired publicly since yesterday, and Lady Angleby had +that morning appealed haughtily to Miss Jocund in her own shop to know +how it had all happened.</p> + +<p>Miss Jocund now reported what she had answered: "I reckon, your +ladyship, that Dan Cupid is no more open in his tactics than ever he +was. All I have to tell is, that one evening, some six years ago, my +niece Rosy, who was a timid little thing, went for a walk by the river +with a school-fellow, and a hulking, rude boy gave them a fright. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax, by good luck, was in the way and brought them home, +and said to me that Rosy was much too pretty to be allowed to wander out +unprotected. When they met after he had a kind nod and a word for her, +and I've no doubt she had a shy blush for him. A philosopher is but a +man, and liable to fall in love, and that is what he did: he fell in +love <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>with Rosy and married her. It suited all parties to keep it a +secret at first; but a secret is like a birth—when its time is full +forth it must come. Two little boys with Fairfax writ large on their +faces are bad to hide. Therefore it suits all parties now to declare the +marriage. And that is the whole story, an' it please your ladyship."</p> + +<p>"I warrant it did not please her ladyship at all," said Mr. Laurence +Fairfax, laughing at the recital.</p> + +<p>"No. She turned and went away in a rage; then came back to expound her +views with respect to Rosy's origin. I begged to inform her that from +time immemorial king's jesters had been of the Jocund family—an office +to the full as dignified as the office of public barber. And a barber +her ladyship's great-grandfather was, and shaved His Majesty's lieges +for a penny. Mr. Cecil Burleigh waited for her outside, and to him +immediately she of course repeated the tale. How does it come to be a +concern of his, I should be glad to know?" Nobody volunteered to gratify +her curiosity, but Mr. Laurence Fairfax could have done so, no doubt.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh had not visited Minster Court that day: was this the +reason? Bessie was not absolutely indifferent to the omission, but she +had other diversions. That night she went up stairs with the young +mother (so young that Elizabeth could not fashion to call her by her +title of kindred) to view the boys in their cots, and saw her so loving +and tender over them that she could not but reflect how dear a companion +she must be to her philosopher after his lost Xantippe. She was such a +sweet and gentle lady that, though he had chosen to marry her privately, +he could have no reluctance in producing her as his wife. He had kept +her to himself unspoilt, had much improved her in their retired life, +and as he had no intention of bringing her into rivalry with finer +ladies, the charm of her adoring simplicity was not likely to be +impaired. He had set his mind on his niece Elizabeth for her friend from +the first moment of their meeting, and except Elizabeth he did not +desire that she should find, at present, any intimate friend of her own +sex. And Elizabeth was perfectly ready to be her friend, and to care +nothing for the change in her own prospects.</p> + +<p>"You know that my boys will make all the difference to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>you?" her uncle +said to her the next day, being a few minutes alone with her.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I understand, and I shall be the happier in the end. Abbotsmead +will be quite another place when they come over," was her reply.</p> + +<p>"There is my father to conciliate before they can come to Abbotsmead. He +is deeply aggrieved, and not without cause. You may help to smooth the +way to comfortable relations again, or at least to prevent a widening +breach. I count on that, because he has permitted you to come here, +though he knows that Rosy and the boys are with me. I should not have +had any right to complain had he denied us your visit."</p> + +<p>"But I should have had a right to complain, and I should have +complained," said Bessie. "My grandfather and I are friends now, because +I have plucked up courage to assert my right to respect myself and my +friends who brought me up; otherwise we must have quarrelled soon."</p> + +<p>Mr. Laurence Fairfax smiled: "My father can be obstinately unforgiving. +So he was to my brother Geoffry and his wife; so he may be to me, though +we have never had a disagreement."</p> + +<p>"I could fancy that he was sometimes sorry for his unkindness to my +father. I shall not submit if he attempt to forbid me your house or the +joy of seeing my little cousins. Oh, his heart must soften to them soon. +I am glad he saw Justus, the darling!"</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax had evidently no worldly ambition. All her desire was +still only to be loved. Her uncle Laurence admired her unselfishness, +and before she left his house at the week's end he had her confidence +entirely. He did not place too much reliance on her recollections of +Beechhurst as the place where she had centred her affections, for young +affections are prone to weave a fine gossamer glamour about early days +that will not bear the touch of later experience; but he was sure there +had been a blunder in bringing her into Woldshire without giving her a +pause amongst those scenes where her fond imagination dwelt, if only to +sweep it clear of illusions and make room for new actors on the stage of +her life. He said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, with whom he had an important +conversation during her visit to Minster Court, that he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>did not believe +she would ever give her mind to settling amongst her north-country +kindred until she had seen again her friends in the Forest, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh began to agree with him. Miss Burleigh did the same.</p> + +<p>It was settled already that the recent disclosure must make no +alteration in the family compact. Mr. Cecil Burleigh interposed a firm +veto when its repeal was hinted at. Every afternoon, one excepted, he +called on Miss Fairfax to report the progress of his canvass, +accompanied by his sister, and Bessie always expressed herself glad in +his promising success. But it was with a cool cheek and candor shining +clear in her blue eyes that she saw them come and saw them go; and both +brother and sister felt this discouraging. The one fault they found in +Miss Fairfax was an absence of enthusiasm for themselves; and Bessie was +so thankful that she had overcome her perverse trick of blushing at +nothing. When she took her final leave of them before quitting Minster +Court, Mr. Cecil Burleigh said that he should probably be over at +Abbotsmead in the course of the ensuing week, and Bessie was glad as +usual, and smiled cordially, and hoped that blue would win—as if he +were thinking only of the election!</p> + +<p>He was thinking of it, and perhaps primarily, but his interest in +herself was becoming so much warmer and more personal than it had +promised to be that it would have given him distinct pleasure to +perceive that she was conscious of it.</p> + +<p>The report of Mr. Laurence Fairfax's private marriage had spread through +city and country, but Bessie went back to Kirkham without having heard +it discussed except by Mrs. Betts, who was already so deeply initiated +in the family secrets. That sage and experienced woman owned frankly to +her young mistress that in her judgment it was a very good thing, looked +at in the right way.</p> + +<p>"A young lady that is a great heiress is more to be pitied than envied: +that is my opinion," said she. "If she is not made a sacrifice of in +marriage, it is a miracle. Men run after her for her money, or she +fancies they do, which comes to the same thing; and perhaps she doesn't +marry at all for suspecting nobody loves her; which is downright +foolish. Jonquil and Macky are in great spirits over what has come out, +and I don't suppose there is one neighbor to Kirkham that won't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>be +pleased to hear that there's grandsons, even under the rose, to carry on +the old line. Mrs. Laurence is a dear sweet lady, and the children are +handsome little fellows as ever stepped; their father may well be proud +of 'em. He has done a deal better for himself the second time than he +did the first. I dare say it was what he suffered the first time made +him choose so different the second. It is not to be wondered at that the +squire is vext, but he ought to have learnt wisdom now, and it is to be +hoped he will come round by and by. But whether or not, the deed's done, +and he cannot undo it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Betts's summary embodied all the common sense of the case, and left +nothing more to be said.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> + +<h3><i>LADY LATIMER IN WOLDSHIRE</i>.</h3> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax welcomed Elizabeth on her arrival with an air of reserve, as +if he did not wish to receive any intelligence from Minster Court. +Bessie took the hint. The only news he had for her was that she might +mount Janey now as soon as she pleased. Bessie was pleased to mount her +the next morning, and to enjoy a delightful ride in her grandfather's +company. Janey went admirably, and promised to be an immense addition to +the cheerfulness of her mistress's life. Mr. Fairfax was gratified to +see her happy, and they chatted cordially enough, but Bessie did not +find it possible to speak of the one thing that lay uppermost in her +mind.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Mrs. Stokes called, and having had a glimpse of Mr. +Laurence Fairfax's secret, and heard various reports since, she was +curious for a full revelation. Bessie gave her the narrative complete, +interspersed with much happy prediction; and Mrs. Stokes declared +herself infinitely relieved to hear that, in spite of probabilities, the +mysterious wife was a quite presentable person.</p> + +<p>"You remember that I told you Miss Jocund was a lady herself," she said. +"The Jocunds are an old Norminster family, and we knew a Dr. Jocund in +India. It was an odd <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>thing for Miss Jocund to turn milliner; still, it +must be much more comfortable than dependence upon friends. There is +nothing so unsatisfactory as helpless poor relations. Colonel Stokes has +no end of them. I wish they would turn milliners, or go into Lady +Angleby's scheme of genteel mistresses for national schools, or do +anything but hang upon us. And the worst is, they are never grateful and +never done with."</p> + +<p>"Are they ashamed to work?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think shame is in their way, or pride, but sheer +incompetence. One is blind, another is a confirmed invalid."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps Providence puts them in your lot for the correction of +selfishness," said Bessie laughing. "I believe if we all helped the need +that belongs to us by kindred or service, there would be little misery +of indigence in the world, and little superfluity of riches even amongst +the richest. That must have been the original reading of the old saw +that sayeth, 'Charity should begin at home.'".</p> + +<p>"Oh, political economy is not in my line," cried Mrs. Stokes, also +laughing. "You have caught a world of wisdom from Mr. Cecil Burleigh, no +doubt, but please don't shower it on me."</p> + +<p>Bessie did not own the impeachment by a blush, as she would have done a +week ago. She could hear that name with composure now, and was proving +an apt pupil in the manners of society. Mrs. Stokes scanned her in some +perplexity, and would have had her discourse of the occupations and +diversions of Brentwood, but all Bessie's inclination was to discourse +of those precious boys in Minster Court.</p> + +<p>"They are just of an age to be play-fellows with your boys," she said to +the blooming little matron. "How I should rejoice to see them racing +about the garden together!"</p> + +<p>Bessie was to wish this often and long before her loving desire was +gratified. If she had not been preassured that her grandfather did, in +fact, know all that was to be known about the children, nothing in his +conduct would have betrayed it to her. She told the story in writing to +her mother, and received advice of prudence and patience. The days and +weeks at Abbotsmead flowed evenly on, and brought no opportunity of +asking the favor of a visit from them. Mr. and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>Mrs. Chiverton drove +over to luncheon, and Bessie and her grandfather returned the civility. +Sir Edward Lucas came to call and stayed a long time, planning his new +town for colliers: Miss Fairfax said a word in praise of steep tiled +roofs as more airy than low roofs of slate, and Sir Edward was an easy +convert to her opinion. Mr. Cecil Burleigh came twice to spend a few +days, and brought a favorable report of his canvass; the second time his +sister accompanied him, and they brought the good news that Lady Latimer +was at Brentwood, and was coming to Hartwell the following week.</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax was certainly happier when there was company at +Abbotsmead, and she had a preference for Miss Burleigh's company; which +might be variously interpreted. Miss Burleigh herself considered Miss +Fairfax rather cold, but then Bessie was not expansive unless she loved +very fondly and familiarly. One day they fell a-talking of Mr. Laurence +Fairfax's wife, and Miss Burleigh suggested a cautious inquiry with a +view to obtaining Bessie's real sentiments respecting her. She received +the frankest exposition of them, with a bit of information to boot that +gave her a theme for reflection.</p> + +<p>"I think her a perfect jewel of a wife," said Bessie with genuine +kindness. "My uncle Laurence and she are quite devoted to one another. +She sings like a little bird, and it is beautiful to see her with those +boys. I wish we had them all at Abbotsmead. And she is <i>so</i> pretty—the +prettiest lady I ever saw, except, perhaps, one."</p> + +<p>"And who was that one?" Miss Burleigh begged to know.</p> + +<p>"It was a Miss Julia Gardiner. I saw her first at Fairfield at the +wedding of Lady Latimer's niece, and again at Ryde the other day."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! dear Julia was very lovely once, but she has gone off. The +Gardiners are very old friends of ours." Miss Burleigh turned aside her +face as she spoke. She had not heard before that Miss Fairfax had met +her rival and predecessor in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's affections: why had +her dear Cecil been so rash as to bring them in contact and give her the +opportunity of drawing inferences? That Bessie had drawn her inferences +truly was plain, from a soft blush and glance and a certain tone in her +voice as she mentioned the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>name of Miss Julia Gardiner, as if she would +deprecate any possible idea that she was taking a liberty. The subject +was not pursued. Miss Burleigh wished only to forget it; perhaps Bessie +had expected a confidential word, and was abashed at hearing none, for +she began to talk with eagerness, rather strained, of Lady Latimer's +promised visit to Hartwell.</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer's arrival was signalized by an immediate invitation to Mr. +Fairfax and his granddaughter to go over and lunch on a fixed day. +Bessie was never so impatient as till the day came, and when she mounted +Janey to ride to Hartwell she palpitated more joyously than ever she had +done yet since her coming into Woldshire. Her grandfather asked her why +she was so glad, but she found it difficult to tell him: because my lady +had come from the Forest seemed the root of the matter, as far as it +could be expressed. The squire looked rather glum, Macky remarked to +Mrs. Betts; and if she had been in his shoes wild horses should not have +drawn her into company with that proud Lady Latimer. The golden harvest +was all gone from the fields, and there was a change of hue upon the +woods—yellow and red and russet mingled with their deep green. The +signs of decay in the vivid life of Nature could not touch Bessie with +melancholy yet—the spring-tides of youth were too strong in her—but +Mr. Fairfax, glancing hither and thither over the bare, sunless +landscape, said, "The winter will soon be upon us, Elizabeth. You must +make the best of the few bright days that are remaining: very few and +very swift they seem when they are gone."</p> + +<p>Hartwell was as secluded amongst its evergreens and fir trees now as at +midsummer, but in the overcast day the house had a dull and unattractive +aspect. The maiden sisters sat in the gloomy drawing-room alone to +receive their guests, but after the lapse of a few minutes Lady Latimer +entered. She was dressed in rich black silk and lace—carefully dressed, +but the three years that had passed since Bessie Fairfax last saw her +had left their mark. Bessie, her heart swelling, her eyes shining with +emotion, moved to meet her, but Lady Latimer only shook hands with sweet +ceremoniousness, and she was instantly herself again. The likeness that +had struck the maiden sisters did not strike my lady, or, being warned +of it, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>she was on her guard. There was a momentary silence, and then +with cold pale face she turned to Mr. Fairfax, congratulated him on +having his granddaughter at home, and asked how long she had been at +Abbotsmead. Soon appeared Mr. Oliver Smith, anxious to talk election +gossip with his neighbor; and for a few minutes Bessie had Lady Latimer +to herself, to gaze at and admire, and confusedly to listen to, telling +Beechhurst news.</p> + +<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie charged me with innumerable kind words for +you—Jack wants you to go home before he goes to sea—Willie and Tom +want you to make tails for their kites—Miss Buff will send you a letter +soon—Mr. Wiley trusts you have forgiven him his forgetfulness of your +message."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, I have not. He lost me an opportunity that may come again I know +not when," said Bessie impetuously.</p> + +<p>"I must persuade your grandfather to lend you to me for a month next +spring, when the leaves are coming out and the orchards are in blossom; +or, if he cannot spare you then, when the autumn tints begin."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! But I think the Forest lovely at all seasons—when the +boughs are bare or when they are covered with snow."</p> + +<p>Bessie would have been glad that the invitation should come now, without +waiting for next year, but that was not even thought of. Lady Latimer +was looking towards the gentlemen, more interested in their interests +than in the small Beechhurst chat that Bessie would never have tired of. +After a few minutes of divided attention my lady rose, and <i>a propos</i> of +the Norminster election expressed her satisfaction in the career that +seemed to be opening for Mr. Cecil Burleigh:</p> + +<p>"Lord Latimer thought highly of him from a boy. He was often at Umpleby +in the holidays. He is like a son to my old friend at Brentwood; Lady +Angleby is happy in having a nephew who bids fair to attain distinction, +since her own sons prefer obscurity. She deplores their want of +ambition: it must be indeed a trial to a mother of her aspiring temper." +So my lady talked on, heard and not often interrupted; it was the old +voice and grand manner that Bessie <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>Fairfax remembered so well, and once +so vastly reverenced. She did not take much more notice of Bessie. After +luncheon she chose to pace the lawn with her brother and Mr. Fairfax, +debating and predicting the course of public affairs, which shared her +thoughts with the government of Beechhurst. Bessie remained indoors with +the two quiet sisters, who were not disposed to forsake the fireside for +the garden: the wood-fire was really comfortable that clouded afternoon, +though September was not yet far advanced. Miss Charlotte sat by one of +the windows, holding back the curtain to watch the trio on the lawn, and +Bessie sat near, able to observe them too.</p> + +<p>"Dear Olympia is as energetic as ever, but, Juliana, don't you think she +is contracting a slight stoop to one side?" said Miss Charlotte. Miss +Juliana approached to look out.</p> + +<p>"She always did hang that arm. Dear Olympia! Still, she is a majestic +figure. She was one of the handsomest women in Europe, Miss Fairfax, +when Lord Latimer married her."</p> + +<p>"I can well imagine that: she is beautiful now when she smiles and +colors a little," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that smile of Olympia's! We do not often see it in these days, but +it had a magic. All the men were in love with her—she made a great +marriage. Lord Latimer was not one of our oldest nobility, but he was +very rich and his mansion at Umpleby was splendid, quite a palace, and +our Olympia was queen there."</p> + +<p>"We never married," said Miss Charlotte meekly. "It would not have done +for us to marry men who could not have been received at court, so to +speak—at Umpleby, I mean. Olympia said so at the time, and we agreed +with her. Dear Olympia was the only one of us who married, except +Maggie, our half-sister, the eldest of our father's children—Mrs. +Bernard's mother—and that was long before the great event in our +family."</p> + +<p>Bessie fancied there was a flavor of regret in these statements.</p> + +<p>Miss Juliana took up the thread where her sister had dropped it: "There +is our dear Oliver—what a perfect gentleman he was! How accomplished, +how elegant! If your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>sweet aunt Dorothy had not died when she did, he +might have been your near connection, Miss Fairfax. We have often urged +him to marry, if only for the sake of the property, but he has +steadfastly refused to give that good and lovely young creature a +successor. Our elder brother also died unmarried."</p> + +<p>Miss Charlotte chimed in again: "Lady Latimer moved for so many years in +a distinguished circle that she can throw her mind into public business. +We range with humble livers in content, and are limited to the politics +of a very small school and hamlet. You will be a near neighbor, Miss +Fairfax, and we hope you will come often to Hartwell: we cannot be Lady +Latimer to you, but we will do our best. Abbotsmead was once a familiar +haunt; of late years it has been almost a house shut up."</p> + +<p>Bessie liked the kindly, garrulous old ladies, and promised to be +neighborly. "I have been told," she said after a short silence, "that my +grandfather was devoted to Lady Latimer when they were young."</p> + +<p>"Your grandfather, my dear, was one amongst many who were devoted to +her," said Miss Juliana hastily.</p> + +<p>"No more than that? Oh, I hoped he was preferred above others," said +Bessie, without much reflecting.</p> + +<p>"Why hope it?" said Miss Charlotte in a saddened tone. "Dorothy thought +that he was, and resented Olympia's marriage with Lord Latimer as a +treachery to her brother that was past pardon. Oliver shared Dorothy's +sentiments; but we are all friends again now, thank God! Juliana's +opinion is, that dear Olympia cared no more for Richard Fairfax than she +cared for any of her other suitors, or why should she have married Lord +Latimer? Olympia was her own mistress, and pleased herself—no one else, +for we should have preferred Richard Fairfax, all of us. But she had her +way, and there was a breach between Hartwell and Abbotsmead for many +years in consequence. Why do we talk of it? it is past and gone. And +there they go, walking up and down the lawn together, as I have seen +them walk a hundred times, and a hundred to that. How strangely the old +things seem to come round again!"</p> + +<p>At that moment the three turned towards the house. Lady Latimer was +talking with great earnestness; Mr. Fairfax <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>sauntered with his hands +clasped behind him and his eyes on the ground; Mr. Oliver Smith was not +listening. When they entered the room her grandfather said to Bessie, +"Come, Elizabeth, it is time we were riding home;" and when he saw her +wistful eyes turn to the visitor from the Forest, he added, "You have +not lost Lady Latimer yet. She will come over to Abbotsmead the day +after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Bessie could not help being reminded by her grandfather's face and voice +of another old Beechhurst friend—Mr. Phipps. Perhaps this luncheon at +Hartwell had been pleasanter to her than to him, though even she had an +aftertaste of disappointment in it, because Lady Latimer no longer +dazzled her judgment. To the end my lady preserved her animation, and +when the visitors had mounted and were ready to ride away she still +engaged Mr. Fairfax's ear while she expounded her views of the mischief +that would accrue if ever election by ballot became the law of the land.</p> + +<p>"You must talk to Chiverton about that," said the squire, lifting his +hat and moving off.</p> + +<p>"I shall drive over to Castlemount to-morrow," said my lady; and she +accompanied her visitors to the gate with more last words on a variety +of themes that had been previously discussed and dismissed.</p> + +<p>All the way home the squire never once opened his mouth to speak; he +appeared thoroughly jaded and depressed and in his most sarcastic humor. +At dinner Bessie heard more bitter sentiments against her sex than she +had ever heard in her life before, and wondered whether they were the +residuum of his disappointed passion.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> + +<h3><i>MY LADY REVISITS OLD SCENES</i>.</h3> + +<p>To meet Lady Latimer and Mr. Oliver Smith at Abbotsmead, Lady Angleby +and Mr. Cecil Burleigh came over from Brentwood. Bessie Fairfax was +sorry. She longed to have my lady to herself. She thought that she might +then ask questions about other friends in the Forest—about friends at +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>Brook—which she felt it impossible to ask in the presence of +uninterested or adverse witnesses. But Lady Latimer wished for no +confidential communications. She had received at Brentwood full +particulars of the alliance that was projected between the families of +Fairfax and Burleigh, and considered it highly desirable. My lady's +principle was entirely against any wilfulness of affection in young +girls. In this she was always consistent, and Bessie's sentimental +constancy to the idea of Harry Musgrave would have provoked her utter +disapproval. It was therefore for Bessie's comfort that no opportunity +was given her of betraying it.</p> + +<p>At luncheon the grand ladies introduced their philanthropic hobbies, and +were tedious to everybody but each other. They supposed the two young +people would be grateful to be left to entertain themselves; but Bessie +was not grateful at all, and her grandfather sat through the meal +looking terribly like Mr. Phipps—meditating, perhaps, on the poor +results in the way of happiness that had attended the private lives of +his guests, who were yet so eager to meddle with their neighbors' lives. +When luncheon was over, Lady Latimer, quitting the dining-room first, +walked through the hall to the door of the great drawing-room. The +little page ran quickly and opened to her, then ran in and drew back the +silken curtains to admit the light. The immense room was close yet +chill, as rooms are that have been long disused for daily purposes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you do not live here as you used to do formerly?" she said to Mr. +Fairfax, who followed her.</p> + +<p>"No, we are a diminished family. The octagon parlor is our common +sitting-room."</p> + +<p>Bessie had promised Macky that some rainy day she would make a tour of +the house and view the pictures, but she had not done it yet, and this +room was strange to her. The elder visitors had been once quite familiar +with it. Lady Latimer pointed to a fine painting of the Virgin and +Child, and remarked, "There is the Sasso-Ferrato," then sat down with +her back to it and began to talk of political difficulties in Italy. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh was interested in Italy, so was Mr. Oliver Smith, and +they had a very animated conversation in which the others joined—all +but Bessie. Bessie lis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>tened and looked on, and felt not quite +happy—rather disenchanted, in fact. Lady Latimer was the same as +ever—she overflowed with practical goodness—but Bessie did not regard +her with the same simple, adoring confidence. Was it the influence of +the old love-story that she had heard? My lady seemed entirely free from +pathetic or tender memories, and domineered in the conversation here as +she did everywhere. Even Lady Angleby was half effaced, and the squire +had nothing to say.</p> + +<p>"I like her best at Fairfield," Bessie thought, but Bessie liked +everything best in the Forest.</p> + +<p>Just before taking her leave my lady said abruptly to the young lady of +the house, "An important sphere is open to you: I hope you will be able +to fill it with honor to yourself and benefit to others. You have an +admirable example of self-devotion, if you can imitate it, in Mrs. +Chiverton of Castlemount. She told me that you were school-fellows and +friends already. I was glad to hear it."</p> + +<p>These remarks were so distinctly enunciated that every eye was at once +attracted to Bessie's face. She colored, and with an odd, fastidious +twist of her mouth—the feminine rendering of the squire's cynical +smile—she answered, "Mrs. Chiverton has what she married for: God grant +her satisfaction in it, and save me from her temptation!" In nothing did +Bessie Fairfax's early breeding more show itself than in her audacious +simplicity of speech when she was strongly moved. Lady Latimer did not +condescend to make any rejoinder, but she remarked to Mr. Fairfax +afterward that habits of mind were as permanent as other habits, and she +hoped that Elizabeth would not give him trouble by her stiff +self-opinion. Mr. Fairfax hoped not also, but in the present instance he +had silently applauded it. And Mr. Burleigh was charmed that she had the +wit to answer so skilfully.</p> + +<p>When my lady was gone, Bessie grieved and vexed herself with +compunctious thoughts. But that was not my lady's last visit; she came +over with Miss Charlotte another afternoon when Mr. Fairfax was gone to +Norminster, and on this occasion she behaved with the gracious sweetness +that had fascinated her young admirer in former days. Bessie said she +was like herself again. At my lady's request Bessie took <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>her up to the +white parlor. On the threshold she stopped a full minute, gazing in: +nothing of its general aspect was changed since she saw it last—how +long ago! She went straight to the old bookcase, and took down one of +Dorothy Fairfax's manuscript volumes and furled over the leaves. Miss +Charlotte drew Bessie to the window and engaged her in admiration of the +prospect, to leave her sister undisturbed.</p> + +<p>Presently my lady said, "Charlotte, do you remember these old books of +Dorothy's?" and Miss Charlotte went and looked over the page.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Dear Dorothy had such a pretty taste—she always knew when a +sentiment was nicely put. She was a great lover of the old writers."</p> + +<p>After a few minutes of silent reading my lady spoke again: "She once +recited to me some verses of George Herbert's—of when God at first made +man, how He gave him strength, beauty, wisdom, honor, pleasure, all to +keep, but with repining restlessness. They were a prophecy. I cannot +find them." She restored the volume to its shelf, quoting the last +lines—all she remembered distinctly:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class='stanza'><div>"Let him be rich and weary, that at last,</div> +<div>If goodness lead him not, yet weariness</div> +<div class='i2'>May toss him to my breast."</div></div> +</div> + +<p>"I know; they are in the last volume, toward the end," said Bessie +Fairfax, and quickly found them. "They do not say that God gave man +love; and that is a craving too. Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer looked straight before her out of the window with lips +compressed.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by love, my dear?—so many foolish feelings go by that +name," said Miss Charlotte, filling the pause.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I mean just love—the warm, happy feeling in my heart toward +everybody who belongs to me or is good to me—to my father and mother +and all of them at home, and to my grandfather now and my uncle +Laurence, and more besides."</p> + +<p>"You are an affectionate soul!" said my lady, contemplating her quietly. +"You were born loving and tender—"</p> + +<p>"Like dear Dorothy," added Miss Charlotte with a sigh. "It is a great +treasure, a warm heart."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>"Some of us have hearts of stone given us—more our misfortune than our +fault," said Lady Latimer with a sudden air of offence, and turned and +left the room, preceding the others down stairs. Bessie was startled; +Miss Charlotte made no sign, but when they were in the hall she asked +her sister if she would not like to see the gardens once more. Indeed +she would, she said; and, addressing Bessie with equanimity restored, +she reminded her how she had once told her that Abbotsmead was very +beautiful and its gardens always sunny, and she hoped that Bessie was +not disappointed, but found them answer to her description. Bessie said +"Yes," of course; and my lady led the way again—led the way everywhere, +and to and fro so long that Miss Charlotte was fain to rest at +intervals, and even Bessie's young feet began to ache with following +her. My lady recollected every turn in the old walks and noted every +alteration that had been made—noted the growth of certain trees, and +here and there where one had disappeared. "The gum-cistus is gone—that +lovely gum-cistus! In the hot summer evenings how sweet it was!—like +Indian spices. And my cedar—the cedar I planted—is gone. It might have +been a great tree now; it must have been cut down."</p> + +<p>"No, Olympia, it never grew up—it withered away; Richard Fairfax told +Oliver that it died," said Miss Charlotte.</p> + +<p>The ladies from Hartwell were still in the gardens when the squire came +home from Norminster, and on Jonquil's information he joined them there. +"Ah, Olympia! are you here?" he said.</p> + +<p>My lady colored, and looked as shy as a girl: "Yes; we were just going. +I am glad to have seen you to say good-bye."</p> + +<p>They did not, however, say good-bye yet; they took a turn together +amongst the old familiar places, Miss Charlotte and Bessie resting +meanwhile in the great porch, and philosophizing on what they saw.</p> + +<p>"Did you know grandpapa's wife—my grandmamma?" Bessie began by asking.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, my dear. She was a sprightly girl before she married, but all +her life after she went softly. Mr. Fairfax was not an unkind or +negligent husband, but there was some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>thing wanting. She was as unlike +Olympia as possible—very plain and simple in her tastes and appearance. +She kept much at home, and never sought to shine in society—for which, +indeed, she was not fitted—but she was a good woman and fond of her +children."</p> + +<p>"And grandpapa was perfectly indifferent to her: it must have been +dreary work. Oh, what a pity that Lady Latimer did not care for him!"</p> + +<p>"She did care for him very much."</p> + +<p>"But if she cared for Umpleby more?"</p> + +<p>Miss Charlotte sighed retrospectively and said, "Olympia was ambitious: +she is the same still—I see no change. She longed to live in the +world's eye and to have her fill of homage—for Nature had gifted her +with the graces and talents that adorn high station—but she was never a +happy woman, never satisfied or at peace with herself. She ardently +desired children, and none were given her. I have often thought that she +threw away substance for shadow—the true and lasting joys of life for +its vain glories. But she had what she chose, and if it disappointed her +she never confessed to her mistake or avowed a single regret. Her pride +was enough to sustain her through all."</p> + +<p>"It is of no use regretting mistakes that must last a lifetime. But one +is sorry."</p> + +<p>The squire and Lady Latimer were drawing slowly towards the porch, +talking calmly as they walked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, one is sorry. Those two were well suited to each other once," said +Miss Charlotte.</p> + +<p>The Hartwell carriage came round the sweep, the Hartwell coachman—who +was groom and gardener too—not in the best of humors at having been +kept so long waiting. Lady Latimer, with a sweet countenance, kissed +Bessie at her leave-taking, and told her that permission was obtained +for her to visit Fairfield next spring. Then she got into the carriage, +and bowing and smiling in her exquisite way, and Miss Charlotte a little +impatient and tired, they drove off. Bessie, exhilarated with her rather +remote prospect of the Forest, turned to speak to her grandfather. But, +lo! his brief amenity had vanished, and he was Mr. Phipps again.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> + +<h3><i>A SUCCESS AND A REPULSE</i>.</h3> + +<p>The weather at the beginning of October was not favorable. There were +gloomy days of wind and rain that Bessie Fairfax had to fill as she +could, and in her own company, of which she found it possible to have +more than enough. Mr. Fairfax had acquired solitary tastes and habits, +and though to see Elizabeth's face at meal-times and to ride with her +was a pleasure, he was seldom at her command at other hours. Mrs. Stokes +was sociable and Mrs. Forbes was kind, but friends out of doors do not +compensate altogether for the want of company within. Sir Edward Lucas +rode or drove over rather frequently seeking advice, but he had to take +it from the squire after the first or second occasion, though his +contemporary would have given it with pleasure. Bessie resigned herself +to circumstances, and, like a well-brought-up young lady, improved her +leisure—practised her songs, sketched the ruins and the mill, and +learnt by heart some of the best pieces in her aunt Dorothy's collection +of poetry.</p> + +<p>Towards the middle of the month Mr. Cecil Burleigh came again, bringing +his sister with him to stay to the end of it. Bessie was very glad of +her society, and when her feminine acumen had discerned Miss Burleigh's +relations with the vicar she did not grudge the large share of it that +was given to his mother: she reflected that it was a pity these elderly +lovers should lose time. What did they wait for, Mr. Forbes and his +gentle Mary, Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sweet Julia? She would have +liked to arrange their affairs speedily.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh went to and fro between Norminster and Abbotsmead as +his business required, and if opportunity and propinquity could have +advanced his suit, he had certainly no lack of either. But he felt that +he was not prospering with Miss Fairfax: she was most animated, amiable +and friendly, but she was not in a propitious mood to be courted. Bessie +was to go to Brentwood for the nomination-day, and to remain until the +election was over. By this date <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>it had begun to dawn on other +perceptions besides Mr. Cecil Burleigh's that she was not a young lady +in love. His sister struggled against this conviction as long as she was +able, and when it prevailed over her hopefulness she ventured to speak +of it to him. He was not unprepared.</p> + +<p>"I am, after all, afraid, Cecil, that Miss Fairfax may turn out an +uninteresting person," she began diffidently.</p> + +<p>"Because I fail to interest her, Mary—is that it?" said her brother.</p> + +<p>"She perplexes me by her cool, capricious behavior. <i>Now</i> I think her +very dear and sweet, and that she appreciates you; then she looks or +says something mocking, and I don't know what to think. Does she care +for any one else, I should like to know?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she made some such discovery at Ryde for me."</p> + +<p>"She told me of your meeting with the Gardiners there. Poor Julia! I +wish it could be Julia, Cecil."</p> + +<p>"I doubt whether it will ever be Miss Fairfax, Mary. She is the oddest +mixture of wit and simplicity."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she has some old prepossession? She would not be persuaded +against her will."</p> + +<p>"All her prepossessions are in favor of her friends in the Forest. There +was a young fellow for whom she had a childish fondness—he was at +Bayeux when I called upon her there."</p> + +<p>"Harry Musgrave? Oh, they are like brother and sister; she told me so."</p> + +<p>"She is a good girl, and believes it, perhaps; but it is a +brother-and-sisterhood likely to lapse into warmer relations, given the +opportunity. That is what Mr. Fairfax is intent on hindering. My hope +was in her youth, but she is not to be won by the semblance of wooing. +She is either calmly unconscious or consciously discouraging."</p> + +<p>"How will Mr. Fairfax bear his disappointment?"</p> + +<p>"The recent disclosure of his son Laurence's marriage will lessen that. +It is no longer of the same importance who Miss Fairfax marries. She has +a great deal of character, and may take her own way. She is all anxiety +now to heal the division between the father and son, that she may have +the little boys over at Abbotsmead; and she will succeed before <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>long. +The disclosure was made just in time, supposing it likely to affect my +intentions; but Miss Fairfax is still an excellent match for me—for me +or any gentleman of my standing."</p> + +<p>"I fancy Sir Edward Lucas is of that opinion."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Edward is quite captivated, but he will easily console +himself. The squire has intimated to him that he has other views for +her; the young man is cool to me in consequence."</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh became reflective: "Miss Fairfax's position is changed, +Cecil. A good connexion and a good dower are one thing, and an heiress +presumptive to Kirkham is another. Perhaps you would as lief remain a +bachelor?"</p> + +<p>"If Miss Fairfax prove impregnable—yes."</p> + +<p>"You will test her, then?"</p> + +<p>"Surely. It is in the bond. I have had her help, and will pay her the +compliment."</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh regarded her brother with almost as much perplexity as she +regarded Miss Fairfax. The thought passed through her mind that he did +not wish even her to suspect how much his feelings were engaged in the +pursuit of that uncertain young lady because he anticipated a refusal; +but what she thought she kept to herself, and less interested persons +did not observe that there was any relaxation in the aspirant member's +assiduities to Miss Fairfax. Bessie accepted them with quiet simplicity. +She knew that her grandfather was bearing the main cost of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's canvass, and she might interpret his kindnesses as gratitude: +it cannot be averred that she did so interpret them, for she gave nobody +her confidence, but the plea was open to her.</p> + +<p>Lady Angleby welcomed Miss Fairfax on her second visit to Brentwood as +if she were already a daughter of the house. It had not entered into her +mind to imagine that her magnificent nephew could experience the slight +of a rejection by this unsophisticated, lively little girl. She had +quite reconciled herself to the change in Bessie's prospects, and looked +forward to the marriage with satisfaction undiminished: Mr. Fairfax had +much in his power with reference to settlements, and the conduct of his +son Laurence would be an excitement to use it to the utmost extent. His +granddaughter in any circum<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>stances would be splendidly dowered. Nothing +could be prettier than Bessie's behavior during this critical short +interval before the election, and strangers were enchanted with her. A +few more persons who knew her better were falling into a state of +doubt—her grandfather amongst them—but nothing was said to her, for it +was best the state of doubt should continue, and not be converted into a +state of certainty until the crisis was over.</p> + +<p>It was soon over now, and resulted in the return of Mr. Cecil Burleigh +as the representative of Norminster in the Conservative interest, and +the ignominious defeat of Mr. Bradley. Once more the blue party held up +its head in the ancient city, and Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Chiverton, and +others, their Tory contemporaries, were at ease again for the safety of +the country. Mr. Burleigh the elder had come from Carisfort for the +election, and he now for the first time saw the young lady of whom he +had heard so much. He was a very handsome but very rustic poor squire, +who troubled the society of cities little. Bessie's beauty was perfect +to his taste, especially when her blushes were revived by a certain +tender paternal significance and familiarity in his address to her. But +when the blushes cooled her spirit of mischief grew vivacious to repel +their false confession, and even Lady Angleby felt for a moment +disturbed. Only for a moment, however. She wished that Mr. Burleigh +would leave his country manners at home, and ascribing Bessie's shy +irritation to alarmed modesty, introduced a pleasant subject to divert +her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Is there to be a ball at Brentwood or no ball, Miss Fairfax?" said she +with amiable suggestion. "I think there was something mooted about a +ball if my nephew won his election, was there not?"</p> + +<p>What could Bessie do but feel appeased, and brighten charmingly?—"Oh, +we shall dance for joy if you give us one; but if you don't think we +deserve it—" said she.</p> + +<p>"Oh, as for your deserts—Well, Mary, we must have the dance for joy. +Cecil wishes it, and so, I suppose, do you all," said her ladyship with +comprehensive affability. Mr. Burleigh nodded at Bessie, as much as to +say that nothing could be refused her.</p> + +<p>Bessie blushed again. She loved a little pleasure, and a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>ball, a real +ball—Oh, paradise! And Mr. Cecil Burleigh coming in at the moment she +forgot her proper reticent demeanor, and made haste to announce to him +the delight that was in prospect. He quite entered into her humor, and +availed himself of the moment to bespeak her as his partner to open the +ball.</p> + +<p>It was settled that she should stay at Brentwood to help in the +preparations for it, and her grandfather left her there extremely +contented. Cards of invitation were sent out indiscriminately to blue +and orange people of quality; carpenters and decorators came on the +scene, and were busy for a week in a large empty room, converting it and +making it beautiful. The officers of the cavalry regiment stationed at +Norminster were asked, and offered the services of their band. Miss +Jocund and her rivals were busy morning, noon, and night in the +construction of aërial dresses, and all the young ladies who were bidden +to the dance fell into great enthusiasm when it was currently reported +that the new member, who was so handsome and so wonderfully clever, was +almost, if not quite, engaged to be married to that pretty, nice Miss +Fairfax, with whom they were all beginning to be more or less +acquainted.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax did not return to Brentwood until the day of the dance. Lady +Angleby was anxious that it should be the occasion of bringing her +nephew's courtship to a climax, and she gave reasons for the expediency +of having the whole affair carried through to a conclusion without +unnecessary delays. Sir Edward Lucas had been intrusive this last week, +and Miss Fairfax too good-natured in listening to his tedious talk of +colliers, cottagers, and spade husbandry. Her ladyship scented a danger. +There was an evident suitability of age and temper between these two +young persons, and she had fancied that Bessie looked pleased when Sir +Edward's honest brown face appeared in her drawing-room. She had been +obliged to ask him to her ball, but she would have been thankful to +leave him out.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax heard all his old friend had to urge, and, though he made +light of Sir Edward, it was with a startling candor that he added, "But +woman's a riddle indeed if Elizabeth would give her shoe-tie for Cecil." +Lady Angleby <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>was so amazed and shocked that she made no answer +whatever. The squire went on: "The farce had better pause—or end. +Elizabeth is sensitive and shrewd enough. Cecil has no heart to give +her, and she will never give hers unless in fair exchange. I have +observed her all along, and that is the conclusion I have come to. She +saw Miss Julia Gardiner at Ryde, and fathomed that old story: she +supposes them to be engaged, and is of much too loyal a disposition to +dream of love for another woman's lover. That is the explanation of her +friendliness towards Cecil."</p> + +<p>"But Julia Gardiner is as good as married," cried Lady Angleby. "Cecil +will be cruelly disappointed if you forbid him to speak to Miss Fairfax. +Pray, say nothing, at least until to-night is over."</p> + +<p>"I shall not interfere at the present point. Let him use his own +discretion, and incur a rebuff if he please. But his visits to +Abbotsmead are pleasant, and I would prefer not to have either Elizabeth +annoyed or his visits given up."</p> + +<p>"You have used him so generously that whatever you wish must have his +first consideration," said Lady Angleby. She was extremely surprised by +the indulgent tone Mr. Fairfax assumed towards his granddaughter: she +would rather have seen him apply a stern authority to the management of +that self-willed young lady, for there was no denial that he, quite as +sincerely as herself, desired the alliance between their families.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax had not chosen a very opportune moment to trouble her +ladyship's mind with his own doubts. She was always nervous on the eve +of an entertainment at Brentwood, and this fresh anxiety agitated her to +such a degree that Miss Burleigh suffered a martyrdom before her duty of +superintendence over the preparations in ball-room and supper-room was +accomplished. Her aunt found time to tell her Mr. Fairfax's opinions +respecting his granddaughter, and she again found time to communicate +them to her brother. To her prodigious relief, he was not moved thereby. +He had a letter from Ryde in his pocket, apprising him on what day his +dear Julia was to become Mrs. Brotherton; and he was in an elastic humor +because of his late success—just in the humor when a man of mature age +and sense puts his trust in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>Fortune and expects to go on succeeding. +Perhaps he had not consciously endeavored to detach his thoughts from +Julia, but a shade of retrospective reverie had fallen upon her image, +and if she was lost to him, Elizabeth Fairfax was, of all other women he +had known, the one he would prefer to take her place. He was quite sure +of this, though he was not in love. The passive resistance that he had +encountered from Miss Fairfax had not whetted his ardor much, but there +was the natural spirit of man in him that hates defeat in any shape; and +from his air and manner his sister deduced that in the midst of +uncertainties shared by his best friends he still kept hold of hope. +Whether he might put his fate to the touch that night would, he said, +depend on opportunity—and impulse.</p> + +<p>Such was the attitude of parties on the famous occasion of Lady +Angleby's ball to celebrate her nephew's successful election. Miss +Fairfax had been a great help to Miss Burleigh in arranging the fruit +and the flowers, and if Mrs. Betts had not been peremptory in making her +rest a while before dinner, she would have been as tired to begin with +as a light heart of eighteen can be. The waiting-woman had received a +commission of importance from Lady Angleby (nothing less than to find +out how much or how little Miss Fairfax knew of Miss Julia Gardiner's +past and present circumstances), and accident favored her execution of +it. A cheerful fire blazed on the hearth in Bessie's room; by the hearth +was drawn up the couch, and a newspaper lay on the couch. Naturally, +Bessie's first act was to take it up, and when she saw that it was a +<i>Hampton Chronicle</i> she exclaimed with pleasure, and asked did Mrs. +Betts receive it regularly from her friends?—if so, she should like to +read it, for the sake of knowing what went on in the Forest.</p> + +<p>"No, miss, it only comes a time by chance: that came by this afternoon's +post. I have barely glanced through it. I expect it was sent by my +cousin to let me know the fine wedding that is on the <i>tapis</i> at +Ryde—Mr. Brotherton, her master, and Miss Julia Gardiner."</p> + +<p>"Miss Julia Gardiner!" exclaimed Bessie in a low, astonished voice.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Betts, with an indifference that a more cunning young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>lady than +hers would have felt to be carefully prepared, proceeded with her +information: "Yes, miss; you met the lady, I think? The gentleman is +many years older, but a worthy gentleman. And she is a most sweet lady, +which, where there is children to begin with, is much to be considered. +She has no fortune, but there is oceans of money on his side—oceans."</p> + +<p>Bessie did not jump to the conclusion that it was therefore a mercenary +marriage, as she had done in another case. She forgot, for the moment, +her interest in the Forest news, and though she seemed to be +contemplating her beautiful dress for the evening laid out upon the bed, +the pensive abstraction of her gaze implied profounder thoughts. Mrs. +Betts busied herself with various little matters—sewed on faster the +rosette of a white shoe, and the buttons on the gloves that were to be +worn with that foam of silvery tulle. What Bessie was musing of she +could not herself have told; a confused sensation of pain and pity was +uppermost at first. Mrs. Betts stood at a distance and with her back to +her young mistress, but she commanded her face in the glass, and saw it +overspread slowly by a warm soft blush, and the next moment she was +asked, "Do you think she will be happy, Mrs. Betts?"</p> + +<p>"We may trust so, miss," said the waiting-woman, still feigning to be +fully occupied with her duties to her young lady's pretty things. "Why +should she not? She is old enough to know her mind, and will have +everything that heart can desire—won't she?"</p> + +<p>Bessie did not attempt any answer to this suggestive query. She put the +newspaper aside, and stretched herself with a sigh along the couch, +folding her hands under her cheek on the pillow. Her eyes grew full of +tears, and so she lay, meditating on this new lesson in life, until Mrs. +Betts warned her that it was time to dress for dinner. Miss Fairfax had +by this date so far accustomed herself to the usages of young ladies of +rank that Mrs. Betts was permitted to assist at her toilette. It was a +silent process this evening, and the penetration of the waiting-woman +was at fault when she took furtive glances in the mirror at the subdued +face that never smiled once, not even at its own beauty. She gave Lady +Angleby an exact account of what had passed, and added for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>interpretation, "Miss Fairfax was surprised and sorry, I'm sure. I +should say she believed Miss Julia Gardiner to be attached to somebody +else. The only question she asked was, Did I think she would be happy?" +Lady Angleby could extract nothing out of this.</p> + +<p>Every one was aware of a change in Bessie when she went into the +drawing-room; she felt as one feels who has heard bad news, and must +conceal the impression of it. But the visible effect was that her +original shyness seemed to have returned with more than her original +pride, and she blushed vividly when Mr. Cecil Burleigh made her a low +bow of compliment on her beautiful appearance. Mr. Fairfax had enriched +his granddaughter that day with a suite of fine pearls, once his sister +Dorothy's, and Bessie had not been able to deny herself the ornament of +them, shining on her neck and arms. Her dress was white and bright as +sea-foam in sunshine, but her own inimitable blooming freshness made her +dress to be scarcely at all regarded. Every day at this period added +something to her loveliness—the loveliness of youth, health, grace, and +a good nature.</p> + +<p>When dinner was over the three young people adjourned to the ball-room, +leaving Lady Angleby and Mr. Fairfax together. Miss Burleigh and Bessie +began by walking up and down arm-in-arm, then they took a few turns in a +waltz, and after that Miss Burleigh said, "Cecil, Miss Fairfax and you +are a perfect height to waltz together; try the floor, and I will go and +play with the music-room door open. You will hear very well." She went +off quickly the moment she had spoken, and Bessie could not refuse to +try the floor, but she had a downcast, conscious air under her impromptu +partner's observation. Mr. Cecil Burleigh was in a gay, light mood, as +became him on this public occasion of his election triumph, and he was +further elated by Miss Fairfax's amiable condescension in waltzing with +him at his sister's behest; and as it was certainly a pleasure to any +girl who loved waltzing to waltz with him, they went on until the music +stopped at the sound of carriage-wheels.</p> + +<p>"You are fond of dancing, Miss Fairfax?" said her cavalier.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Bessie with a pretty upward glance. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>had enjoyed that +waltz extremely; her natural animation was reviving, too buoyant to lie +long under the depression of melancholy, philosophic reverie.</p> + +<p>The guests were received in the drawing-room, and began to arrive in +uninterrupted succession. Mr. and Mrs. Tindal, Lord and Lady Eden, Mr. +and Mrs. Philip Raymond, Mr. Maurice and Miss Lois Wynyard, Mrs. Lefevre +and Miss Jean Lefevre, Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton, Colonel Stokes and his +wife, and Sir Edward Lucas with an architectural scheme in his pocket; +however, he danced none the worse for it, as Miss Fairfax testified by +dancing with him three times. She had a charming audacity in evading +awkward partners, and it was observed that she waltzed only with the new +member. She looked in joyous spirits, and acknowledged no reason why she +should deny herself a pleasure. More than once in the course of the +evening she flattered Lady Angleby's hopes by telling her it was a most +delicious ball.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax contemplated his granddaughter with serene speculation. Lady +Angleby had communicated to him the results of Mrs. Betts's inquisition. +At a disengaged moment he noticed a wondering pathos in Bessie's eyes, +which were following Mr. Cecil Burleigh's agile movements through the +intricate mazes of the Lancers' Quadrilles. His prolonged gaze ended by +attracting hers; she blushed and drew a long breath, and seemed to shake +off some persistent thought. Then she came and asked, like a +light-footed, mocking, merry girl, if he was not longing to dance too, +and would he not dance with her? He dismissed her to pay a little +attention to Mrs. Chiverton, who sat like a fine statue against the +wall, unsought of partners, and Bessie went with cheerful submission. +Her former school-rival was kind to her now with a patronizing, married +superiority that she did not dislike. Mrs. Chiverton knew from her +husband of the family project for Miss Fairfax's settlement in life, and +as she approved of Mr. Cecil Burleigh as highly as her allegiance to Mr. +Chiverton permitted her to approve of anybody but himself, she spoke at +some length in his praise, desiring to be agreeable. Bessie suffered her +to go on without check or discouragement; she must have understood the +drift of many things this evening which had puzzled her hitherto, but +she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>made no sign. Miss Burleigh said to her brother when they parted +for the night that she really did not know what to think or what to +advise, further than that Sir Edward Lucas ought to be "set down," or +there was no guessing how far he might be tempted to encroach. Miss +Fairfax, she considered, was too universally inclined to please.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh had no clear resolve of what he would do when he went +to walk in the garden the next morning. He knew what he wanted. A sort +of paradoxical exhilaration possessed him. He remembered his dear Julia +with tender, weary regret, and gave his fancy license to dwell on the +winsomeness of Bessie. And while it was so dwelling he heard her tuneful +tongue as she came with Miss Burleigh over the grass, still white with +hoar-frost where the sun had not fallen. He advanced to meet them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cecil, here you are! Mr. Fairfax has been inquiring for you, but +there is no hurry," said his sister, and she was gone.</p> + +<p>Bessie wore a broad shady hat, yet not shady enough to conceal the +impetuous blushes that mantled her cheeks on her companion's evasion. +She felt what it was the prelude to. Mr. Cecil Burleigh, inspired with +the needful courage by these fallacious signs, broke into a stammering +eloquence of passion that was yet too plain to be misunderstood—not +reflecting, he, that maiden blushes may have more sources than one. The +hot torrent of Bessie's rose from the fountain of indignation in her +heart—indignation at his inconstancy to the sweet lady who she knew +loved him, and his impertinence in daring to address herself when she +knew he loved that lady. She silently confessed that to this upshot his +poor pretences of wooing had tended from the first, and that she had +been wilfully half blind and wholly unbelieving—so unwilling are proud +young creatures to imagine that their best feelings can be traded +on—but she was none the less wrathful and scornful as she lifted her +eyes, dilated with tears, to his, and sweeping him a curtsey turned away +without a single word—without a single word, yet never was wooer more +emphatically answered.</p> + +<p>They parted and went different ways. Bessie, thinking she would give all +she was worth that he had held his peace and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>let her keep her dream of +pity and sympathy, took the shrubbery path to the village and Miss +Hague's cottage-lodgings; and Mr. Cecil Burleigh, repenting too late the +vain presumption that had reckoned on her youth and ignorance, apart +from the divining power of an honest soul, walked off to Norminster to +rid himself of his heavy sense of mortification and discomfiture.</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh saw her brother go down the road, and knew what had +happened, and such a pang came with the certainty that only then did she +realize how great had been her former confidence. She stood a long while +at her window, listening and watching for Miss Fairfax's return to the +house, but Bessie was resting in Miss Hague's parlor, hearing anecdotes +of her father and uncles when they were little boys, and growing by +degrees composed after her disturbing emotion. She wished to keep the +morning's adventure to herself, or, if the story must be told, to leave +the telling of it to Mr. Cecil Burleigh; and when she went back to the +house, the old governess accompanying her, she betrayed no counsel by +her face: that was rosy with the winter cold, and hardly waxed rosier +when Lady Angleby expressed a wish to know what she had done with her +nephew, missing since breakfast. Bessie very simply said that she had +only seen him for a minute, and she believed that he had gone into the +town; she had been paying a long-promised visit to Miss Hague.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh, reappearing midway the afternoon, was summoned to +his aunt's closet and bidden to explain himself. The explanation was far +from easy. Lady Angleby was profoundly irritated, and reproached her +nephew with his blundering folly in visiting Miss Julia Gardiner in Miss +Fairfax's company. She refused to believe but that his fascination must +have proved irresistible if Miss Fairfax had not been led to the +discovery of that faded romance. Was he quite sure that the young lady's +answer was conclusive? Perfectly conclusive—so conclusive that he +should not venture to address her again. "Not after Julia's marriage?" +his sister whispered. Lady Angleby urged a temporary retreat and then a +new approach: it was impossible but that a fine, spirited girl like Miss +Fairfax must have ambition and some appreciation of a distinguished +mind; and how was her dear <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>Cecil to support his position without the +fortune she was to bring him? At this point Mr. Cecil Burleigh +manifested a contemptuous and angry impatience against himself, and rose +and left the discussion to his grieved and disappointed female +relatives. Mr. Fairfax, on being informed of the repulse he had +provoked, received the news calmly, and observed that it was no more +than he had anticipated.</p> + +<p>Towards evening Bessie felt her fortitude failing her, and did not +appear at dinner nor in the drawing-room. Her excuses were understood +and accepted, and in the morning early Mr. Cecil Burleigh conveyed +himself away by train to London, that his absence might release her from +seclusion. Before he went, in a consultation with his aunt and Mr. +Fairfax, it was agreed that the late episode in his courtship should be +kept quiet and not treated as final. Later in the day Mr. Fairfax +carried his granddaughter home to Abbotsmead, not unconsoled by the +reflection that he was not to be called upon to resign her to make +bright somebody else's hearth. Bessie was much subdued. She had passed a +bad night, she had shed many tears, and though she had not encountered +one reproach, she was under the distressing consciousness that she had +vexed several people who had been good to her. At the same time there +could not be two opinions of the wicked duplicity of a gentleman who +could profess to love and wish to marry her when his heart was devoted +to another lady: she believed that she never could forgive him that +insult.</p> + +<p>Yet she was sorry even to tears again when she remembered him in the +dull little drawing-room at Ryde, and Miss Julia Gardiner telling him +that she had forgotten her old songs which he liked better than her new +ones; for it had dawned upon her that this scene—it had struck her then +as sad—must have been their farewell, the <i>finis</i> to the love-chapter +of their youth. Bessie averted her mind from the idea that Miss Julia +Gardiner had consented to marry a rich, middle-aged gentleman who was a +widower: she did not like it, it was utterly repugnant, she hated to +think of it. Oh, that people would marry the right people, and not care +so much for rank and money! Lady Angleby's loveliest sister had forty +years ago aggrieved her whole family by marrying the poor squire of +Carisfort; and Lady Angleby had said in Bessie's hearing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>that her +sister was the most enviable woman she knew, happy as the day was long, +though so positively indigent as to be thankful for her eldest +daughter's half-worn Brentwood finery to smarten up her younger girls. +It must indeed be a cruel mistake to marry the wrong person. So far the +wisdom and sentiment of Bessie Fairfax—all derived from observation or +most trustworthy report—and therefore not to be laughed at, although +she was so young.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> + +<h3><i>A HARD STRUGGLE</i>.</h3> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh's departure to town so immediately after Lady +Angleby's ball might have given rise to remark had he not returned to +Brentwood before the month's end, and in excellent spirits. During his +brief absence he had, however, found time to run down to the Isle of +Wight and see Miss Julia Gardiner. In all trouble and vexation his +thoughts still turned to her for rest.</p> + +<p>Twice already a day had been named for the marriage, and twice it had +been deferred to please her. It now stood fixed for February—"A good +time to start for Rome and the Easter festivals," she had pleaded. Mr. +Brotherton was kindness itself in consideration for her wishes, but her +own family felt that poor Julia was making a long agony of what, if it +were to be done at all, were best done quickly. When Mr. Cecil Burleigh +went to Ryde, he expected to find the preparations for the wedding very +forward, but nothing seemed to have been begun. The young ladies were +out walking, but Mrs. Gardiner, who had written him word that the 10th +of December was the day, now told him almost in the first breath that it +was put off again until the New Year.</p> + +<p>"We shall all be thankful to have it over. I never knew dear Julia so +capricious or so little thoughtful for others," said the poor languid, +weary lady.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh heard the complaint with a miserable compassion, and +when Julia came in, and her beautiful coun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>tenance broke into sunshine +at the sight of him, he knew what a cruel anticipation for her this +marriage really was. He could have wished for her sake—and a little for +his own too—that the last three months were blotted from their history; +but when they came to talk together, Julia, with the quick discernment +of a loving woman, felt that the youthful charms of Miss Fairfax had +warmly engaged his imagination, though he had so much tenderness of +heart still left for herself.</p> + +<p>He did not stay long, and when he was going he said that it would have +been wiser never to have come: it was a selfish impulse brought him—he +wanted to see her. Julia laughed at his simple confession; her sister +Helen was rather angry.</p> + +<p>"Now, I suppose you will be all unsettled again, Julia," said she, +though Julia had just then a most peaceful face. Helen was observant of +her: "I know what you are dreaming—while there is the shadow of a +chance that Cecil will return to you, Mr. Brotherton will be left +hanging between earth and heaven."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nellie, I wish you would marry Mr. Brotherton yourself. Your +appreciation of his merits is far higher than mine."</p> + +<p>"If I were in your place I would not use him as you do: it <i>is</i> a shame, +Julia."</p> + +<p>"It is not you who are sentenced to be buried alive, Nellie. I dare not +look forward: I dread it more and more—"</p> + +<p>"Of course. That is the effect of Cecil's ill-judged visit and Mary +Burleigh's foolish letter. Pray, don't say so to mamma; it would be +enough to lay her up for a week."</p> + +<p>Julia shut her eyes and sighed greatly. "Fashionable marriages are +advertised with the tag of 'no cards;' you will have to announce mine as +'under chloroform.' Nellie, I never can go through with it," was her +cry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Julia," remonstrated her sister, "don't say that. If you throw over +Mr. Brotherton, half our friends will turn their backs upon us. We have +been wretchedly poor, but we have always been well thought of."</p> + +<p>Miss Julia Gardiner's brief joy passed in a thunder-shower of passionate +tears.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>It was not intended that the rebuff Mr. Cecil Burleigh had received +from Miss Fairfax should be generally known even by his friends, but it +transpired nevertheless, and was whispered as a secret in various +Norminster circles. Buller heard it, but was incredulous when he saw the +new member in his visual spirits; Mrs. Stokes guessed it, and was +astonished; Lady Angleby wrote about it to Lady Latimer with a petition +for advice, though why Lady Latimer should be regarded as specially +qualified to advise in affairs of the heart was a mystery. She was not +backward, however, in responding to the request: Let Mr. Cecil Burleigh +hold himself in reserve until Miss Julia Gardiner's marriage was an +accomplished fact, and then let him come forward again. Miss Fairfax had +behaved naturally under the circumstances, and Lady Latimer could not +blame her. When the young lady came to Fairfield in the spring, +according to her grandfather's pledge, Mr. Cecil Burleigh should have +the opportunity of meeting her there, but meanwhile he ought not +entirely to give up calling at Abbotsmead. This Mr. Cecil Burleigh could +not do without affronting his generous old friend—to whom Bessie gave +no confidence, none being sought—but he timed his first visit during +her temporary absence, and she heard of it as ordinary news on her +return.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>A VISIT TO CASTLEMOUNT.</i></h3> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax had been but a few days at home after the Brentwood +rejoicings when there came for her an invitation from Mrs. Chiverton to +spend a week at Castlemount. She was perfectly ready to go—more ready +to go than her grandfather was to part with her. She read him the letter +at breakfast; he said he would think about it, and at luncheon he had +not yet made up his mind. Before post-time, however, he supposed he must +let her choose her own associates, and if she chose Mrs. Chiverton for +old acquaintance' sake, he would not refuse his consent, but Mr. +Chiverton and he were not on intimate terms.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>Bessie went to Castlemount under escort of Mrs. Betts. Mrs. Chiverton +was rejoiced to welcome her. "I like Miss Fairfax, because she is +honest. Her manner is a little brusque, but she has a good heart, and we +knew each other at school," was her reason given to Mr. Chiverton for +desiring Bessie's company. They got on together capitally. Mrs. +Chiverton had found her course and object in life already, and was as +deeply committed to philanthropic labors and letters as either Lady +Latimer or Lady Angleby. They were both numbered amongst her +correspondents, and she promised to outvie them in originality and +fertility of resource. What she chiefly wanted at Castlemount was a good +listener, and Bessie Fairfax, as yet unprovided with a vocation, showed +a fine turn that way. She reposed lazily at the end of Mrs. Chiverton's +encumbered writing-table, between the fire and the window, and heard her +discourse with infinite patience. Bessie was too moderate ever to join +the sisterhood of active reformers, but she had no objection to their +activity while herself safe from assaults. But when she was invited to +sign papers pledging herself to divers serious convictions she demurred. +Mrs. Chiverton said she would not urge her. Bessie gracefully +acquiesced, and Mrs. Chiverton put in a more enticing plea: "I can +scarcely expect to interest you in my occupations all at once, but they +bring to me often the most gratifying returns. Read that letter."</p> + +<p>Bessie read that letter. "Very honeyed phrases," said she with her odd +twist of the mouth, so like her grandfather. It was from a more +practised philanthropist than the young lady to whom it was addressed, +and was in a strain of fulsome adulation, redolent of gratitude for +favors to come. Religious and benevolent egotism is impervious to the +tiny sting of sarcasm. Mrs. Chiverton looked complacently lofty, and +Bessie had not now to learn how necessary to her was the incense of +praise. Once this had provoked her contempt, but now she discerned a +certain pathos in it; she had learnt what large opportunity the craving +for homage gives to disappointment. "You cannot fail to do some good +because you mean well," she said after the perusal of more letters, more +papers and reports. "But don't call me heartless and unfeel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>ing because +I think that distance lends enchantment to the view of some of your +pious and charitable objects."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; I see you do not understand their necessity. I am busy at home +too. I am waging a crusade against a dreadful place called Morte, and a +cottage warfare with our own steward. These things do not interest Mr. +Chiverton, but he gives me his support. I tell him Morte must disappear +from the face of the earth, but there is a greedy old agent of Mr. +Gifford's, one Blagg, who is terribly in the way. Then I have +established a nursery in connection with the school, where the mothers +can leave their little children when they go to work in the fields."</p> + +<p>"Do they work in the fields hereabouts?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes—at hoeing, weeding and stone-picking, in hay-time and harvest. +Some of them walk from Morte—four miles here and four back. There is a +widow whose husband died on the home-farm—it was thought not to answer +to let widows remain in the cottages—this woman had five young +children, and when she moved to Morte, Mr. Chiverton kindly kept her on. +I want her to live at our gates."</p> + +<p>"And what does she earn a day?"</p> + +<p>"Ninepence. Of course, she has help from the parish as well—two +shillings a week, I think, and a loaf for each child besides."</p> + +<p>A queer expression flitted over Bessie's face; she drew a long breath +and stretched her arms above her head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I feel it is wrong: the widow of a laborer who died in Mr. +Chiverton's service, who spends all her available strength in his +service herself, ought not to be dependent on parish relief. I put it to +him one day with the query, Why God had given him such great wealth? A +little house, a garden, the keep of a cow, a pig, would have made all +the difference in the world to her, and none to him, except that her +children might have grown up stout and healthy, instead of ill-nurtured +and weakly. But you are tired. Let us go and take a few turns in the +winter-garden. It is the perfection of comfort on a windy, cold day like +this."</p> + +<p>Bessie acceded with alacrity. Castlemount was not the building of one +generation, but it owed its chief glories to its present master. Mr. +Chiverton had found it a spacious coun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>try mansion, and had converted it +into a palace of luxury and a museum of art—one reason why Morte had +thriven and Chiver-Chase become almost without inhabitant. Bessie +Fairfax was half bewildered amongst its magnificences, but its +winter-garden was to her the greatest wonder of all. She was not, +however, sufficiently acclimatized to an artificial temperature to enjoy +it long. "It is delicious, but as we are not hot-house ferns, a good +stretch over that upland would be, perhaps, more delicious still: it is +cold, but the sun shines," she said after two turns under the moist +glass.</p> + +<p>"We must not change the air too suddenly," Mrs. Chiverton objected. "The +wind is very boisterous."</p> + +<p>"There is a woman at work in it; is it your widow?" Bessie asked, +pointing down a mimic orange-grove.</p> + +<p>"Yes—poor thing! how miserably she is clothed! I must send her out one +of my knitted kerchiefs."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, do," said Bessie; and the woollen garment being brought, she +was deputed to carry it to the weeding woman.</p> + +<p>On closer view she proved to be a lean, laborious figure, with an +anxious, weather-beaten face, which cleared a little as she received the +mistress's gift. It was a kerchief of thick gray wool, to cross over in +front and tie behind.</p> + +<p>"It will be a protection against the cold for my chest; I suffered with +the inflammation badly last spring," she said, approving it.</p> + +<p>"Put it on at once; it is not to be only looked at," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>The woman proceeded to obey, but when she wanted to tie it behind she +found a difficulty from a stiffness of one shoulder, and said, "It is +the rheumatics, miss; one catches it being out in the wet."</p> + +<p>"Let me tie it for you," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, miss, and thank the mistress for her goodness," said the +woman when it was done, gazing curiously at the young lady. And she +stooped again to her task, the wind making sport with her thin and +scanty skirts.</p> + +<p>Bessie walked farther down the grove, green in the teeth of winter. She +was thinking that this poor widow, work and pain included, was not less +contented with her lot than herself or than the beautiful young lady who +reigned at Castle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>mount. Yet it was a cruelly hard lot, and might be +ameliorated with very little thought. "Blessed is he that considereth +the poor," says the old-fashioned text, and Bessie reflected that her +proud school-fellow was in the way of earning this blessing.</p> + +<p>She was confirmed in that opinion on the following day, when the weather +was more genial, and they took a drive together in the afternoon and +passed through the hamlet of Morte. It had formed itself round a +dilapidated farm-house, now occupied as three tenements, in one of which +lived the widow. The carriage stopped in the road, and Mrs. Chiverton +got out with her companion and knocked at the door. It was opened by a +shrewd-visaged, respectable old woman, and revealed a clean interior, +but very indigent, with the tea-table set, and on a wooden stool by the +hearth a tall, fair young woman sitting, who rose and dropt a smiling +curtsey to Miss Fairfax: she was Alice, the second housemaid at +Abbotsmead, and waited on the white suite. She explained that Mrs. Macky +had given her leave to walk over and see her mother, but she was out at +work; and this was her aunt Jane, retired from service and come to live +at home with her widowed sister.</p> + +<p>An old range well polished, an oven that would not bake, and a boiler +that would not hold water,—this was the fireplace. The floor was of +bricks, sunken in waves and broken; through a breach in the roof of the +chamber over the "house" blew the wind and leaked the rain, in spite of +a sack stuffed with straw thrust between the rafters and the tiles.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, my poor sister has lived in this place for sixteen years, +and paid the rent regularly, three pounds a year: I've sent her the +money since she lost her husband," said the retired servant, in reply to +some question of Mrs. Chiverton's. "Blagg is such a miser that he won't +spend a penny on his places; it is promise, promise for ever. And what +can my poor sister do? She dar'n't affront him, for where could she go +if she was turned out of this? There's a dozen would jump at it, houses +is so scarce and not to be had."</p> + +<p>"There ought to be a swift remedy for wretches like Blagg," Mrs. +Chiverton indignantly exclaimed when they were clear <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>of the +foul-smelling hamlet. "Why cannot it be an item of duty for the rural +police to give information of his extortion and neglect? Those poor +women are robbed, and they are utterly helpless to resist it. It is a +greater crime than stealing on the highway."</p> + +<p>"Do any of grandpapa's people live at Morte?" Bessie asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I think not; they are ours and Mr. Gifford's, and a colony of +miserable gentry who exist nobody can tell how, but half their time in +jail. It was a man from Morte who shot our head-keeper last September. +Poor wretch! he is waiting his trial now. When I have paid a visit to +Morte I always feel indifferent to my beautiful home."</p> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax felt a sharp pang of compunction for her former hard +judgment of Mrs. Chiverton. If it was ever just, time and circumstances +were already reversing it. The early twilight overtook them some miles +from Castlemount, but it was still clear enough to see a picturesque +ivied tower not far removed from the roadside when they passed +Carisfort.</p> + +<p>Bessie looked at it with interest. "That is not the dwelling-house—that +is the keep," Mrs. Chiverton said. "The house faces the other way, and +has the finest view in the country. It is an antiquated place, but +people can be very good and happy there."</p> + +<p>The coachman had slackened speed, and now stopped. A gentleman was +hastening down the drive—Mr. Forbes, as it turned out on his nearer +approach. The very person she was anxious to see! Mrs. Chiverton +exclaimed; and they entered on a discussion of some plan proposed +between them for the abolition of Morte.</p> + +<p>"I can answer for Mr. Chiverton's consent. Mr. Gifford is the +impracticable person. And of course it is Blagg's interest to oppose us. +Can we buy Blagg out?" said the lady.</p> + +<p>"No, no; that would be the triumph of iniquity. We must starve him out," +said the clergyman.</p> + +<p>More slowly there had followed a lady—Miss Burleigh, as Bessie now +perceived. She came through the gate, and shook hands with Mrs. +Chiverton before she saw who her companion in the carriage was, but when +she recognized Bessie she came round and spoke to her very pleasantly: +"Lady Augleby has <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>gone to Scarcliffe to meet one of her daughters, and +I have a fortnight's holiday, which I am spending at home. You have not +been to Carisfort: it is such a pretty, dear old place! I hope you will +come some day. I am never so happy anywhere as at Carisfort;" and she +allowed Bessie to see that she included Mr. Forbes in the elements of +her happiness there. Bessie was quite glad to be greeted in this +friendly tone by Mr. Cecil Burleigh's sister; it was ever a distress to +her to feel that she had hurt or vexed anybody. She returned to +Castlemount in charming spirits.</p> + +<p>On entering the drawing-room before dinner there was a new arrival—a +slender little gentleman who knelt with one knee on the centre ottoman +and turned over a volume of choice etchings. He moved his head, and +Bessie saw a visage familiar in its strangeness. He laid the book down, +advanced a step or two with a look of pleased intelligence, bowed and +said, "Miss Fairfax!" Bessie had already recognized him. "Mr. Christie!" +said she, and they shook hands with the utmost cordiality. The world is +small and full of such surprises.</p> + +<p>"Then you two are old acquaintances? Mr. Christie is here to paint my +portrait," said Mrs. Chiverton.</p> + +<p>The meeting was an agreeable episode in their visit. At dinner the young +artist talked with his host of art, and Bessie learnt that he had seen +Italy, Spain, Greece, that he had friends and patrons of distinction, +and that he had earned success enough to set him above daily cares. Mr. +Chiverton had a great opinion of his future, and there was no better +judge in the circle of art-connoisseurs.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Christie has an exquisite taste and refinement—feelings that are +born in a man, and that no labor or pains can enable him to acquire," +her host informed Bessie. It was these gifts that won him a commission +for a portrait of the beautiful Mrs. Chiverton, though he was not +professedly a painter of portraits.</p> + +<p>After dinner, Miss Fairfax and he had a good talk of Beechhurst, of +Harry Musgrave, and other places and persons interesting to both. Bessie +asked after that drop-scene, at the Hampton theatre, and Mr. Christie, +in nowise shy of early reminiscences, gave her an amusing account of how +he worked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>at it. Then he spoke of Lady Latimer as a generous soul who +had first given him a lift, and of Mr. Carnegie as another effectual +helper. "He lent me a little money—I have long since paid it back," he +whispered to Bessie. He was still plain, but his countenance was full of +intelligence, and his air and manner were those of a perfectly simple, +cultivated, travelled gentleman. He did salaam to nobody now, for in his +brief commerce with the world he had learnt that genius has a rank of +its own to which the noblest bow, and ambition he had none beyond +excelling in his beloved art. Harry Musgrave was again, after long +separation, his comrade in London. He said that he was very fond of +Harry.</p> + +<p>"He is my constant Sunday afternoon visitor," he told Bessie. "My +painting-room looks to the river, and he enjoys the sunshine and the +boats on the water. His own chambers are one degree less dismal than +looking down a well."</p> + +<p>"He works very hard, does he not?—Harry used to be a prodigious +worker," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he throws himself heart and soul into whatever he undertakes, +whether it be work or pleasure. If he had won that fellowship the other +day I should have been glad. It would have made him easier."</p> + +<p>"I did not know he was trying for one. How sorry I am! It must be very +dull studying law."</p> + +<p>"He lightens that by writing articles for some paper—reviews of books +chiefly. There are five years to be got through before he can be called +to the bar—a long probation for a young fellow in his circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Harry Musgrave was never impatient: he could always wait. I am +pleased that he has taken to his pen. And what a resource you must be to +each other in London, if only to tell your difficulties and +disappointments!"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I am in all Musgrave's secrets, and he in mine," said Christie. +"A bachelor in chambers has not a superfluity of wants; he is short of +money now and then, but that is very much the case with all of us."</p> + +<p>Bessie laughed carelessly. "Poor Harry!" said she, and recollected the +tragical and pathetic stories of the poets that they used to discuss, +and of which they used to think so differently. She did not reflect how +much temptation was im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>plied in the words that told her Harry was short +of money now and then. A degree of hardship to begin with was nothing +more than all her heroes had encountered, and their biography had +commonly succeeded in showing that they were the better for it—unless, +indeed, they were so unlucky as to die of it—but Harry had far too much +force of character ever to suffer himself to be beaten; in all her +visions he was brave, steadfast, persistent, and triumphant. She said so +to Mr. Christie, adding that they had been like brother and sister when +they were children, and she felt as if she had a right to be interested +in whatever concerned him. Mr. Christie looked on the carpet and said, +"Yes, yes," he remembered what friends and comrades they were—almost +inseparable; and he had heard Harry say, not so very long ago, that he +wished Miss Fairfax was still at hand when his spirits flagged, for she +used to hearten him more than anybody else ever did. Bessie was too much +gratified by this reminiscence to think of asking what the +discouragements were that caused Harry to wish for her.</p> + +<p>The next day Mrs. Chiverton's portrait was begun, and the artist was as +happy as the day was long. His temper was excellent unless he were +interrupted at his work, and this Mr. Chiverton took care should not +happen when he was at home. But one morning in his absence Mr. Gifford +called on business, and was so obstinate to take no denial that Mrs. +Chiverton permitted him to come and speak with her in the +picture-gallery, where she was giving the artist a sitting. Bessie +Fairfax, who had the tact never to be in the way, was there also, +turning over his portfolio of sketches (some sketches on the beach at +Yarmouth greatly interested her), but she looked up with curiosity when +the visitor entered, for she knew his reputation.</p> + +<p>He was a fat man of middle age, with a thin voice and jerky manner. "I +had Forbes yesterday, Mrs. Chiverton, to speak to me in your name," he +announced. "Do you know him for the officious fellow he is, for ever +meddling in other people's matters? For ten years he has pestered me +about Morte, which is no concern of mine."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Mr. Gifford, it is very much your concern," Mrs. +Chiverton said with calm deliberation. "Eleven <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>laborers, employed by +farmers on your estate, representing with their families over thirty +souls, live in hovels at Morte owned by you or your agent Blagg. They +are unfit for human habitation. Mr. Chiverton has given orders for the +erection of groups of cottages sufficient to house the men employed on +our farms, and they will be removed to them in the spring. But Mr. +Fairfax and other gentlemen who also own land in the bad neighborhood of +Morte object to the hovels our men vacate being left as a harbor for the +ragamuffinery of the district. They require to have them cleared away; +most of these, again, are in Blagg's hands."</p> + +<p>"The remedy is obvious: those gentlemen do not desire to be munificent +at Blagg's expense—let them purchase his property. No doubt he has his +price."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Gifford, but a most extortionate price. And it is said he +cannot sell without your consent."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gifford grew very red, and with stammering elocution repelled the +implication: "Blagg wants nobody's consent but his own. The fact is, the +tenements pay better to keep than they would pay to sell; naturally, he +prefers to keep them."</p> + +<p>"But if you would follow Mr. Chiverton's example, and let the whole +place be cleared of its more respectable inhabitants at one blow, he +would lose that inducement."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gifford laughed, amazed at this suggestion—so like a woman, as he +afterwards said. "Blagg has served me many years—I have the highest +respect for him. I cannot see that I am called on to conspire against +his interests."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chiverton's countenance had lost its serenity, and would not soon +recover it, but Bessie Fairfax could hardly believe her ears when the +artist muttered, "Somebody take that chattering fool away;" and up he +jumped, cast down his palette, and rushed out of the gallery. Mrs. +Chiverton looked after him and whispered to Bessie, "What is it?" "Work +over for the day," whispered Bessie again, controlling an inclination to +laugh. "The temperament of genius disturbed by the intrusion of +unpleasant circumstances." Mrs. Chiverton was sorry; perhaps a walk in +the park would recompose the little man. There he was, tearing over the +grass towards the lake. Then she turned to Mr. Gifford and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>resumed the +discussion of Morte, with a warning of the terrible responsibility he +incurred by maintaining that nest of vice and fever; but as it was +barren of results it need not be continued.</p> + +<p>The next day the painter worked without interruption.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3> + +<h3><i>BESSIE'S PEACEMAKING.</i></h3> + +<p>When Bessie Fairfax returned from Castlemount she learnt for a first +piece of news that Mr. Cecil Burleigh had spent two days of her absence +at Abbotsmead, and that he had only left in the morning. To this +information her grandfather added that he had seen in his time +unsuccessful lovers, more dejected. Bessie laughed and blushed, and said +she was glad to hear he was in good spirits; and this was their first +and last allusion to the crowning episode of her visit to Brentwood. The +squire gave her one searching look, and thought it wisdom to be silent.</p> + +<p>The green rides of the woods and glades of the park were all encumbered +with fallen leaves. The last days of autumn were flown, and winter was +come. The sound of the huntsman's horn was heard in the fields, and the +squire came out in his weather-stained scarlet coat to enjoy the sport +which was the greatest pleasure life had left for him. One fine soft +morning at the end of November the meet was at Kirkham turnpike, and +Abbotsmead entertained the gentlemen of the hunt at breakfast.</p> + +<p>Bessie rode a little way with her grandfather, and would have ridden +farther, but he sent her back with Ranby. Mr. Cecil Burleigh had once +expressed a prejudice against foxhunting ladies, and when Mr. Fairfax +saw his granddaughter the admiration of the miscellaneous gathering, and +her acquaintance claimed by even Mr. Gifford, he adopted it. Bessie was +disappointed. She liked the exercise, the vivacity of the sport, and +Janey went so beautifully; but when her grandfather spoke she quietly +submitted. Sir Edward Lucas, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>though he was charmed with her figure on +horseback, was still more charmed by her obedience.</p> + +<p>The burden of Bessie's present life threatened to be the tedium of +nothing to do. She could not read, practise her songs, and learn poetry +by heart all the hours of the day: less than three sufficed her often. +If she had been bred in a country-house, she would have possessed +numerous interests that she inevitably lacked. She was a stranger +amongst the villagers—neither old nor young knew her. There was little +suffering to engage her sympathy or poverty to invite her help. At +Kirkham there were no long-accumulated neglects to reform as there was +at Morte, and to Morte Mr. Fairfax forbade her to go. She had a liberal +allowance, and not half ways enough to spend it, so she doubled her +allowance to Miss Hague on behalf of her former pupils, Geoffry and +Frederick; Laurence paid his own.</p> + +<p>She was not a girl of many wants, and her taste did not incline to idle +expenditure. She had seen thrift and the need of thrift in her early +home, and thought money much too valuable to be wasted in buying things +she did not require. Where she saw a necessity she was the freest of +givers, but she had experience, gained in her rides with Mr. Carnegie, +against manufacturing objects of sentimental charity.</p> + +<p>Her resource for a little while was the study of the house and +neighborhood she lived in. There was a good deal of history connected +with Kirkham. But it was all contained in the county gazetteer; and when +Macky had instructed her in the romance of the family, and the legends +attached to the ruins by the river and the older portions of the +mansion, all was learnt that there was to know, and the sum of her +reflections announced aloud was, that Abbotsmead was a very big house +for a small family. Macky shook her head in melancholy acquiescence.</p> + +<p>The December days were very long, and the weather wild and stormy both +by land and sea. Bessie conjectured sometimes when her uncle Frederick +would come home, but it appeared presently that he was not coming. He +wrote that he had laid up the Foam in one of the Danish ports to be +ready for the breaking up of the winter and a further exploration of the +Baltic coasts, and that he was just starting on a jour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>ney into +Russia—judging that the beauty of the North is in perfection during the +season of ice and snow.</p> + +<p>"Just like one of Fred's whims!" said his father discontentedly. "As if +he could not have come into Woldshire and have enjoyed the hunting! +Nobody enjoyed it more than he did formerly."</p> + +<p>He did not come, however, and Bessie was not astonished. Under other +circumstances Abbotsmead might have been a cheerful house, but it seemed +as if no one cared to make it cheerful now: if the days got over +tranquilly, that was enough. The squire and his granddaughter dined +alone day after day, Mr. Forbes relieved their monotony on Sundays, and +occasionally Mr. Oliver Smith came for a night. Society was a toil to +Mr. Fairfax. He did not find his house dull, and would have been +surprised to know that Elizabeth did. What could she want that she had +not? She had Janey to ride, and Joss, a companionable dog, to walk with; +she had her carriage, and could drive to Hartwell as often as she +pleased; and at her gates she had bright little Mrs. Stokes for company +and excellent Mrs. Forbes for counsel. Still, Bessie felt life stagnant +around her. She could not be interested in anything here without an +effort. The secret of it was her hankering after the Forest, and partly +also her longing for those children. To have those dear little boys over +from Norminster would cheer her for the whole winter; but how to compass +it? Once she thought she would bring them over without leave asked, but +when she consulted Mrs. Stokes, she was assured that it would be a +liberty the squire would never forgive.</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid of being never forgiven," rejoined Bessie. "I shall do +some desperate act one of these days if I am kept idle. Think of the +echoes in this vast house answering only the slamming of a door! and +think of what they would have to answer if dear little unruly Justus +were in the old nursery!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stokes laughed: "I am only half in sympathy with you. Why did you +discourage that fascinating Mr. Cecil Burleigh? A young lady is never +really occupied until she is in love."</p> + +<p>Bessie colored slightly. "Well," she said, "I am in love—I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>am in love +with my two little boy-cousins. What do you advise? My grandfather has +never mentioned them. It seems as if it would be easier to set them +before him than to speak of them."</p> + +<p>"I should not dare to do that. What does Mr. Laurence Fairfax say? What +does his wife say?"</p> + +<p>"Not much. My grandfather is treating them precisely as he treated my +father and my mother—just letting them alone. And it would be so much +pleasanter if we were all friends! I call it happiness thrown away. I +have everything at Abbotsmead but that. It is not like a home, and the +only motive there was for me to try and root there is taken away since +those boys came to light."</p> + +<p>"Your future prospects are completely changed. You bear it very well."</p> + +<p>"It is easy to bear what I am truly thankful for. Abbotsmead is nothing +to me, but those boys ought to be brought up in familiarity with the +place and the people. I am a stranger, and I don't think I am very apt +at making humble friends. To enjoy the life one ought to begin one's +apprenticeship early. I wonder why anybody strains after rank and +riches? I find them no gain at all. I still think Mr. Carnegie the best +gentleman I know, and his wife as true a gentlewoman as any. You are +smiling at my partiality. Shall you be shocked if I add that I have met +in Woldshire grand people who, if they were not known by their titles, +would be reckoned amongst the very vulgar, and gentry of old extraction +who bear no brand of it but that disagreeable manner which is qualified +as high-bred insolence?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stokes held all the conventionalities in sincere respect. She did +not understand Miss Fairfax, and asked who, then, of their acquaintance +was her pattern of a perfect lady. Bessie instanced Miss Burleigh. "Her +sweet graciousness is never at fault, because it is the flower of her +beautiful disposition," said she.</p> + +<p>"I should never have thought of her," said Mrs. Stokes reflectively. +"She is very good. But to go back to those boys: do nothing without +first speaking to Mr. Fairfax."</p> + +<p>Bessie demurred, and still believed her own bolder device the best, but +she allowed herself to be overruled, and watched <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>for an opportunity of +speaking. Undoubtedly, Mr. Fairfax loved his granddaughter with more +respect for her independent will than he might have done had they been +together always. He had denied her no reasonable request yet, and he +granted her present prayer so readily that she was only sorry she had +not preferred it earlier.</p> + +<p>"Grandpapa, you will give me a Christmas gift, will you not?" she said +one evening after dinner about a week before that festive season.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Elizabeth. What would you like?" was his easy reply. It was a +satisfaction to hear that she had a wish.</p> + +<p>"I should like to have my two little cousins from Norminster—Justus and +Laury. They would quite enliven us."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was evidently taken by surprise. Still, he did not rebuke +her audacity. He was silent for a minute or two, as if reflecting, and +when he answered her it was with all the courtesy that he could have +shown towards a guest for whose desires he was bound to feel the utmost +deference. "Certainly, Elizabeth," said he. "You have a right to be +here, as I told you at your first coming, and it would be hard that I +should forbid you any visitor that would enliven you. Have the little +boys, by all means, if you wish it, and make yourself as happy as you +can."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth thanked him warmly. "I will write to-morrow. Oh, I know they +may come—my uncle Laurence promised me," said she. "And the day before +Christmas Eve, Mrs. Betts and I will go for them. I am so glad!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax did not check her gay exuberance, and all the house heard +what was to be with unfeigned joy. Mrs. Stokes rejoiced too, and pledged +her own sons as playfellows for the little visitors. And when the +appointed time came, Bessie did as she had said, and made a journey to +Norminster, taking Mrs. Betts with her to bring the children over. Their +father and pretty young mother consented to their going with the less +reluctance because it seemed the first step towards the re-establishment +of kindly relations with the offended squire; and Sally was sent with +them.</p> + +<p>"Next Christmas you will come too," said Bessie, happier than any queen +in the exercise of her office as peacemaker, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>and important also as +being put in charge of those incomparable boys, for Sally was, of +course, under superior orders.</p> + +<p>The first drawback to her intense delight was a whimper from Laury as he +lost sight of his mamma, and the next drawback was that Justus asked to +be taken home again the moment the train reached Mitford Junction. These +little troubles were quickly composed, however, though liable, of +course, to break out again; and Bessie felt flushed and uneasy lest the +darling boys should fail of making a pleasant first impression on +grandpapa. Alas for her disquiets! She need have felt none. Jonquil +received her at the door with a sad countenance; and Macky, as she came +forward to welcome the little gentlemen, betrayed that her temper had +been tried even to tears not very long before. Jonquil did not wait to +be inquired of respecting his master, but immediately began to say, in +reply to his young lady's look of troubled amazement, "The squire, miss, +has gone on a journey. I was to tell you that he had left you the house +to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Gone on a journey? But he will return before night?" said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"No, miss. We are to expect him this day week, when Mr. Laurence's +children have gone back to Norminster," explained the old servant in a +lower voice.</p> + +<p>Bessie comprehended the whole case instantly. Macky was relieving her +pent feelings by making a fuss with the little boys, and giving Mrs. +Betts her mind on the matter. The group stood disconcerted in the hall +for several minutes, the door open and the low winter sun shining upon +them. Bessie did not speak—she could not. She gazed at the children, +pale herself and trembling all over. Justus began to ask where was +grandpapa, and Laury repeated his question like a lisping echo. There +was no answer to give them, but they were soon pacified in the old +nursery where their father had played, and were made quite happy with a +grand parade of new toys on the floor, expressly provided for the +occasion. Bed-time came early, and Bessie was relieved when it did come. +Never in the whole course of her life had she felt so hurt, so insulted, +so injured; and yet she was pained, intensely pained, for the old man +too. Perhaps he had meant her to be so, and that was her punishment. +Jonquil could give her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>no information as to whither his master had +gone, but he offered a conjecture that he had most probably gone up to +London.</p> + +<p>If it was any comfort to know that the old servants of the house +sympathized with her, Bessie had that. They threw themselves heart and +soul into the work of promoting the pleasure of the little visitors. +Jonquil proved an excellent substitute for grandpapa, and Macky turned +out an inexhaustible treasury of nice harmless things to eat, of funny +rhymes to sing, and funny stories to tell in a dramatic manner. Still, +it was a holiday spoilt. It was not enjoyed in the servants' hall nor in +the housekeeper's room. No amount of Yule logs or Yule cakes could make +a merry Christmas of it that year. All the neighbors had heard with +satisfaction that Mr. Fairfax's little grandsons were to be brought to +Abbotsmead, and such as had children made a point of coming over with +them, so that the way in which Miss Fairfax's effort at peacemaking had +failed was soon generally known, and as generally disapproved. Mrs. +Stokes, that indignant young matron, qualified the squire's behavior as +"Quite abominable!" but she declared that she would not vex herself if +she were Miss Fairfax—"No, indeed!" Bessie tried hard not. She tried to +be dignified, but her disappointment was too acute, and her +grandfather's usage of her too humiliating, to be borne with her +ordinary philosophy.</p> + +<p>She let her uncle Laurence know what had happened by letter, and on the +day fixed for the children to go home again she went with them, attended +by Mrs. Betts as before. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was half amused at the +method by which his father had evaded Bessie's bold attempt to rule him, +and his blossom of a wife was much too happy to care for the old +squire's perversity unless he cared; but they were both sorry for +Bessie.</p> + +<p>"My grandfather lets me have everything but what I want," she said with +a tinge of rueful humor. "He surrounds me with every luxury, and denies +me the drink of cold water that I thirst for. I wish I could escape from +his tyranny. We were beginning to be friends, and this has undone it +all. A refusal would not have been half so unkind."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing but time to trust to," said her uncle <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>Laurence. "My +father's resentment is not active, but it lasts."</p> + +<p>Bessie was quite alone that long evening, the last of the old year: at +Beechhurst or at Brook there was certainly a party. Nor had she any +intimation of the time of her grandfather's return beyond what Jonquil +had been able to give her a week ago. He had not written since he left, +and an accumulation of letters awaited him in his private room, Jonquil +having been unable to forward any for want of an address. The dull +routine of the house proceeded for three days more, and then the master +reappeared at luncheon without notice to anybody.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax took his seat at the table, ate hungrily, and looked so +exactly like himself, and so unconscious of having done anything to +provoke anger, to give pain or cause anxiety, that Bessie's imaginary +difficulties in anticipation of his return were instantly removed. He +made polite inquiries after Janey and Joss, and even hoped that Bessie +had been enlivened by her little cousins' visit. She would certainly not +have mentioned them if he had not, but, as he asked the question, she +was not afraid to answer him.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said she, "children are always good company to me, especially +boys; and they behaved so nicely, though they are very high-spirited, +that I don't think they would have been inconvenient if you had stayed +at home."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? I am glad to hear they are being well brought up," said the +squire; and then he turned to Jonquil and asked for his letters.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3> + +<h3><i>ABBOTSMEAD IN SHADOW.</i></h3> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax's letters were brought to him, and after glancing cursorily +through the batch, he gathered them all up and went off to his private +room. Bessie conjectured that he would be busy for the rest of the +afternoon, and she took a walk in the park until dusk, when she returned +to the house and retired to her own parlor. The dressing-bell rang at a +quarter to seven, as usual, and Mrs. Betts came to assist at her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>young +lady's toilet. Being dressed, Bessie descended to the octagon room, +which she found empty.</p> + +<p>It was a fine, frosty night, and the sky was full of stars. She put +aside a curtain and looked out into the wintry garden, feeling more than +ever alone and desolate amidst the grandeur of her home. It seemed as if +the last unkindness she had suffered was the worst of all, and her heart +yearned painfully towards her friends in the Forest. Oh, for their +simple, warm affection! She would have liked to be sitting with her +mother in the old-fashioned dining-room at Beechhurst, listening for the +doctor's return and the clink of Miss Hoyden's hoofs on the hard frozen +road, as they had listened often in the winters long ago. She forgot +herself in that reverie, and scarcely noticed that the door had been +opened and shut again until her grandfather spoke from the hearth, +saying that Jonquil had announced dinner.</p> + +<p>The amiable disposition in which the squire had come home appeared to +have passed off completely. Bessie had seen him often crabbed and +sarcastic, but never so irritable as he was that evening. Nothing went +right, from the soup to the dessert, and Jonquil even stirred the fire +amiss. Some matter in his correspondence had put him out. But as he made +no allusion to his grievance, Bessie was of course blind and deaf to his +untoward symptoms. The next day he went to Norminster to see Mr. John +Short, and came back in no better humor—in a worse humor if +possible—and Mrs. Stokes whispered to Bessie the explanation of it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax had inherited a lawsuit with a small estate in Durham, +bequeathed to him by a distant connexion, and this suit, after being for +years a blister on his peace, had been finally decided against him. The +estate was lost, and the plague of the suit with it, but there were +large costs to pay and the time was inconvenient.</p> + +<p>"Your grandfather contributed heavily to the election of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh in the prospect of an event which it seems is not to be," +concluded the little lady with reproachful significance. "My Arthur told +me all about it (Mr. Fairfax consults him on everything); and now there +are I don't know how many thousands to pay in the shape of back rents, +interest, and costs, but it is an immense sum."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>Bessie was sorry, very sorry, and showed it with so much sense and +sympathy that her grandfather presently revealed his vexations to her +himself, and having once mentioned them, he found her a resource to +complain to again. She hoped that he would get over his defeat the +sooner for talking of it, but he did not. He was utterly convinced that +he had right on his side, and he wanted a new trial, from which Mr. John +Short could hardly dissuade him. The root of his profound annoyance was +that Abbotsmead must be encumbered to pay for the lost suit, unless his +son Frederick, who had ready money accumulated from the unspent fortune +of his wife, would come to the rescue. In answer to his father's appeal +Frederick wrote back that a certain considerable sum which he mentioned +was at his service, but as for the bulk of his wife's fortune, he +intended it to revert to her family. Mr. Laurence Fairfax made, through +the lawyer, an offer of further help to keep Abbotsmead clear of +mortgages, and with the bitter remark that it was Laurence's interest to +do so, the squire accepted his offer.</p> + +<p>So much at this crisis did Bessie hear of money and the burden and +anxiety of great estates that she thought poverty must be far +preferable. The squire developed a positively bad temper under his +worries. And he was not irritable only: by degrees he became ill, and +yet would have no advice. Jonquil was greatly troubled about him, and +when he refused to mount his horse one splendid hunting morning in +February, though he was all equipped and ready, Bessie also began to +wonder what ailed him besides crossness, for he was a man of strong +constitution and not subject to fanciful infirmities.</p> + +<p>Early in March, Mr. Frederick Fairfax wrote home that his Russian tour +was accomplished, and that he was impatient to be on board his yacht +again. The weather was exceedingly rough and tempestuous later in the +month, and the squire, watching the wrack of the storm on the wolds, +often expressed anxiety lest his son should be rash and venturesome +enough to trust himself out of port in such weather. Everybody was +relieved when April opened with sunny showers and the long and severe +winter seemed to be at an end. It had not made Bessie more in love with +her life at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>Abbotsmead: there had, indeed, been times of inexpressible +dreariness in it very trying to her fortitude. With the dawning of +brighter days in spring she could not but think of the Forest with fresh +longing, and she watched each morning's post for the arrival of that +invitation to Fairfield which Lady Latimer had promised to send. At +length it came, and after brief demur received a favorable answer. The +squire had a mortified consciousness that his granddaughter's life was +not very cheerful, and, though he did not refuse her wish, he was unable +to grant it heartily. However, the fact of his consent overcame the +manner of it, and Bessie was enjoying the pleasures of anticipation, and +writing ecstatically to her mother, when an event happened that threw +Abbotsmead into mourning and changed the bent even of her desires.</p> + +<p>One chilly evening after dinner, when she had retreated to the octagon +parlor, and was dreaming by the fireside in the dusk alone, Jonquil, +with visage white as a ghost, ushered in Mr. John Short. He had walked +over from Mitford Junction, in the absence of any vehicle to bring him +on, and was jaded and depressed, though with an air of forced composure. +As Jonquil withdrew to seek his master the lawyer advanced into the +firelight, and Bessie saw at once that he came on some sad errand. Her +grandfather had gone, she believed, to look after his favorite hunter, +which had met with a severe sprain a week ago; but she was not sure, for +he had been more and more restless for some time past, had taken to +walking at unaccustomed hours, to neglecting his correspondence, leaving +letters for days unopened, and betraying various other signs of a mind +unsettled and disturbed. It had appeared to Bessie that he was always in +a state of distressed expectancy, but what for she had no idea. The +appearance of Mr. John Short without previous notice suggested new +vexation connected with the lawsuit, but when she asked if he were again +the messenger of bad news, he startled her with a much more tragical +announcement.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say that I am, Miss Fairfax. Mr. Frederick has not lived +much at home of late years, but I fear that it will be a terrible shock +to his father to hear that he is lost," said Mr. John Short.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>"Lost!" echoed Bessie. "Lost! Oh where? Poor grandpapa!"</p> + +<p>"On the Danish coast. His yacht was wrecked in one of the gales of last +month, and all on board perished. The washing ashore of portions of the +wreck leaves no doubt of the disaster. The consul at the nearest port +communicated with the authorities in London, and the intelligence +reached me some days ago in a form that left little to hope. This +morning the worst was confirmed."</p> + +<p>Bessie sat down feeling inexpressibly sorrowful. "Grandpapa is out +somewhere—Jonquil is seeking him. Oh, how I wish I could be more of a +help and comfort to him!" she said, raising her eyes to the lawyer's +face.</p> + +<p>"It is a singular thing, Miss Fairfax, but your grandfather never seems +to want help or comfort like other men. He shuts himself up and +broods—just broods—when he is grieved or angry. He was very genial and +pleasant as a young man, but he had a disappointment of the affections +that quite soured him. I do not know that he ever made a friend of any +one but his sister Dorothy. They were on the Continent for a year after +that affair, and she died in Italy. He was a changed man when he came +home, and he married a woman of good family, but nobody was, perhaps, +more of a stranger to him than his own wife. It was generally remarked. +And he seemed to care as little for her children as he did for her. I +have often been surprised to see that he was indifferent whether they +came to Abbotsmead or not; yet the death of Mr. Geoffry, your father, +hurt him severely, and Mr. Frederick's will be no less a pain."</p> + +<p>"I wish I had not vexed him about my uncle Laurence's boys. We were +becoming good friends before," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the squire will not bear malice for that. He discriminates between +the generosity of your intention towards the children, and what he +probably mistook for a will to rule himself. He acted very perversely in +going out of the way."</p> + +<p>"Does my uncle Laurence know the news you bring?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he desired me to be the first medium of it. Jonquil is a long +while seeking his master."</p> + +<p>A very long while. So long that Bessie rang the bell to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>inquire, and +the little page answered it. The master was not come in, he said; they +had sent every way to find him. Bessie rose in haste, and followed by +Mr. John Short went along the passage to her grandfather's private room. +That was dark and empty, and so was the lobby by which it communicated +with the garden and the way to the stables. She was just turning back +when she bethought her to open the outer door, and there, at the foot of +the steps on the gravel-walk, lay the squire. She did not scream nor +cry, but ran down and helped to carry him in, holding his white head +tenderly. For a minute they laid him on the couch in the justice-room, +and servants came running with lights.</p> + +<p>"It is not death," said Mrs. Betts, peering close in the unconscious +face. "The fire is out here: we will move him to his chamber at once."</p> + +<p>As they raised him again one stiffened hand that clutched a letter +relaxed and dropped it. The lawyer picked it up and gave it to Miss +Fairfax. It was a week old—a sort of official letter recording the +wreck of the Foam and the loss of her crew. The suddenness and tragical +character of the news had been too much for the poor father. In the +shock of it he had apparently staggered into the air and had fallen +unconscious, smitten with paralysis. Such was the verdict of Mr. Wilson, +the general practitioner at Mitford, who arrived first upon the scene, +and Dr. Marks, the experienced physician from Norminster, who came in +the early morning, supported his opinion. The latter was a stranger to +the house, and before he left it he asked to see Miss Fairfax.</p> + +<p>The night had got over between waiting and watching, and Bessie had not +slept—had not even lain down to rest. She begged that Dr. Marks might +be shown to her parlor, and Mr. John Short appeared with him. Mrs. Betts +had put over her shoulders a white cachemire wrapper, and with her fair +hair loosened and flowing she sat by the window over-looking the fields +and the river where the misty morning was breaking slowly into sunshine. +Both the gentlemen were impressed by a certain power in her, a fortitude +and gentleness combined that are a woman's best strength in times of +trouble and difficulty. They could speak to her without fear of creating +fresh embarrassment as plainly as it was desirable that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>they should +speak, for she was manifestly aware of a responsibility devolving upon +her.</p> + +<p>"Though I apprehend no immediate danger, Miss Fairfax, it is to be +regretted that this sad moment finds Mr. Fairfax at variance with his +only surviving son," said Dr. Marks. "Mr. Laurence Fairfax ought to be +here. It is probable that his father has not made a final disposition of +his affairs; indeed, I understand from Mr. John Short that he has not +done so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, does that matter now?" said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fairfax's recovery might be promoted if his mind were quite at +ease. If he should wish to transact any business with his lawyer, you +may be required to speak of your own wishes. Do not waste the favorable +moment. The stroke has not been severe, and I have good hopes of +restoration, but when the patient is verging on seventy we can never be +sure."</p> + +<p>Dr. Marks went away, leaving Mr. Wilson to watch the case. Mr. John +Short then explained to Bessie the need there was that she should be +prepared for any event: a rally of consciousness was what he hoped for, +perfect, whether tending to recovery or the precursor of dissolution. +For he knew of no will that Mr. Frederick had made, and he knew that +since the discovery of Mr. Laurence's marriage the squire had destroyed +the last will of his own making, and that he had not even drawn out a +rough scheme of his further intentions. The entailed estates were of +course inalienable—those must pass to his son and his son's son—but +there were houses and lands besides over which he had the power of +settlement. Bessie listened, but found it very hard to give her mind to +these considerations, and said so.</p> + +<p>"My uncle Laurence is the person to talk to," she suggested.</p> + +<p>"Probably he will arrive before the day is over, but you are to be +thought of, you are to be provided for, Miss Fairfax."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't care for myself at all," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"The more need, then, that some one else should care for you," replied +Mr. John Short.</p> + +<p>Inquirers daily besieged Abbotsmead for news of the squire. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>Mr. +Laurence Fairfax came over, and Mr. John Short stayed on, expecting his +opportunity, while slowly the old man recovered up to a certain point. +But his constitution was permanently weakened and his speech indistinct. +Jonquil, Macky, and Mrs. Betts were his nurses, and the first person +that he was understood to ask for was Elizabeth. Bessie was so glad of +his recollection that she went to him with a bright face—the first +bright face that had come about his bed yet—and he was evidently +pleased. She took up one of his hands and stroked and kissed it, and +knelt down to bring herself nearer to him, all with that affectionate +kindness that his life had missed ever since his sister Dorothy died.</p> + +<p>"You are better, grandpapa; you will soon be up and out of doors again," +said she cheerfully.</p> + +<p>He gave her no answer, but lay composed with his eyes resting upon her. +It was doubtful whether the cause of his illness had recurred to his +weakened memory, for he had not attempted to speak of it. She went on to +tell him what friends and neighbors had been to ask after his +health—Mr. Chiverton, Sir Edward Lucas, Mr. Oliver Smith—and what +letters to the same purport she had received from Lady Latimer, Lady +Angleby, Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and others, to which she had replied. He +acknowledged each item of her information with a glance, but he made no +return inquiries.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chiverton had called that day, and the form in which he carried +intelligence home to his wife was, "Poor Fairfax will not die of this +bout, but he has got his first warning."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chiverton was sorry, but she did not refrain from speculating on +how Miss Fairfax would be influenced in her fortunes by the triple +catastrophe of her uncle Laurence's marriage, her uncle Frederick's +death, and her grandfather's impending demise. "I suppose if Mr. +Laurence were unmarried, as all the world believed him to be, she would +stand now as the greatest prospective heiress in this part of the +county. If it was her fortune Mr. Cecil Burleigh wanted, he has had a +deliverance."</p> + +<p>"I am far from sure that Burleigh thinks so," returned Mr. Chiverton +significantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I imagined that projected marriage was one of convenience, a family +compact."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>"In the first instance so it was. But the young lady's rosy simplicity +caught Burleigh's fancy, and it is still in the power of Mr. Fairfax to +make his granddaughter rich."</p> + +<p>Whether Mr. Fairfax would make his granddaughter rich was debated in +circles where it was not a personal interest, but of course it was +discussed with much livelier vivacity where it was. Lady Angleby +expressed a confident expectation that as Miss Fairfax had been latterly +brought up in anticipation of heiress-ship, her grandfather would endow +her with a noble fortune, and Miss Burleigh, with ulterior views for her +brother, ventured to hope the same. But Mr. Fairfax was in no haste to +set his house in order. He saw his son Laurence for a few minutes twice, +but gave him no encouragement to linger at Abbotsmead, and his reply to +Mr. John Short on the only occasion when he openly approached the +subject of will-making was, "There is time enough yet."</p> + +<p>The household was put into mourning, but as there was no bringing home +of the dead and no funeral, the event of the eldest son's death passed +with little outward mark. Elizabeth was her grandfather's chief +companion in-doors, and she was cheerful for his sake under +circumstances that were tryingly oppressive. To keep up to her duty she +rode daily, rain or fair, and towards the month's end there were many +soft, wet days when all the wolds were wrapt in mist. People watched her +go by often, with Joss at Janey's heels, and Ranby following behind, and +said they were sorry for Miss Fairfax; it was very sad for so young a +girl to have to bear, unsupported, the burden of her grandfather's +declining old age. For the squire was still consistent in his obstinacy +in refusing to be gracious to his son and his son's wife and children, +and Bessie, on her uncle Laurence's advice, refrained from mentioning +them any more. Old Jonquil alone had greater courage.</p> + +<p>One evening the squire, after lying long silent, broke out with, "Poor +Fred is gone!" the first spontaneous allusion to his loss that he had +made.</p> + +<p>Jonquil hastened to him. "My dear master, my dear master!" he lamented. +"Oh, sir, you have but one son now! forgive him, and let the little boys +come home—for your own sake, dear master."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>"They will come home, as you call it, when I follow poor Fred. My son +Laurence stands in no need of forgiveness—he has done me no wrong. +Strange women and children would be in my way; they are better where +they are." Thus had the squire once answered every plea on behalf of his +son Geoffry. Jonquil remembered very well, and held his peace, sighing +as one without hope.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3> + +<h3><i>DIPLOMATIC.</i></h3> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax gave up her visit to the Forest of her own accord in her +pitying reluctance to leave her grandfather. She wrote to Lady Latimer, +and to her mother more at length. They were disappointed, but not +surprised.</p> + +<p>"Now they will prove what she is—a downright good girl, not an atom of +selfishness about her," said Mr. Carnegie to his wife with tender +triumph.</p> + +<p>"Yes, God bless her! Bessie will wear well in trouble, but I am very +wishful to see her, and hear her own voice about that gentleman Lady +Latimer talked of." Lady Latimer had made a communication to the +doctor's wife respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie had nothing to advise. He felt tolerably sure that Bessie +would tell her mother every serious matter that befell her, and as she +had not mentioned this he drew the inference that it was not serious.</p> + +<p>The first warm days of summer saw Mr. Fairfax out again, walking in the +garden with a stick and the support of his granddaughter's shoulder. She +was an excellent and patient companion, he said. Indeed, Bessie could +forget herself entirely in another's want, and since this claim for care +and helpfulness had been made upon her the tedium of life oppressed her +no more. It was thus that Mr. Cecil Burleigh next saw her again. He had +taken his seat in the House, and had come down to Brentwood for a few +days; and when he called to visit his old friend, Jonquil sent him round +to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>south terrace, where Mr. Fairfax was walking with Bessie in the +sun.</p> + +<p>In her black dress Bessie looked taller, more womanly, and there was a +sweet peace and kindness in her countenance, which, combined with a +sudden blush at the sight of him, caused him to discover in her new +graces and a more touching beauty than he had been able to discern +before. Mr. Fairfax was very glad to see him, and interested to hear all +he had to tell. Since he had learnt to appreciate at their real worth +his granddaughter's homely virtues, his desire for her union with this +gentleman had revived. He had the highest opinion of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's disposition, and he would be thankful to put her in his +keeping—a jewel worth having.</p> + +<p>Presently Bessie was released from her attendance, and the visitor took +her place: her grandfather wished to speak to Mr. Cecil Burleigh alone. +He began by reverting to the old project of their marriage, and was +easily satisfied with an assurance that the gentleman desired it with +all his heart. Miss Julia Gardiner's wedding had not yet taken place. +She had been delicate through the winter, and Mr. Brotherton had +succumbed to a sharp attack of gout in the early spring. So there had +been delay after delay, but the engagement continued in force, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh had not repeated his indecorous visit. He believed that +he was quite weaned from that temptation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax gave him every encouragement to renew his siege to +Elizabeth, and promised him a dower with her if he succeeded that should +compensate for her loss of position as heiress of Abbotsmead. It was an +understood thing that Mr. Cecil Burleigh could not afford to marry a +scantily-portioned wife, and a whisper got abroad that Miss Fairfax was +to prosper in her fortunes as she behaved, and to be rich or poor +according as she married to please her grandfather or persevered in +refusing his choice. If Bessie heard it, she behaved as though she heard +it not. She went on being good to the old man with a most complete and +unconscious self-denial—read to him, wrote for him, walked and drove +with him at his will and pleasure, which began to be marked with all the +exacting caprice of senility. And the days, weeks, months slipped round +again to golden September. Monotony abridges <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>time, and, looking behind +her, Bessie could hardly believe that it was over a year ago since she +came home from France.</p> + +<p>One day her grandfather observed or imagined that she looked paler than +her wont. He had a letter in his hand, which he gave to her, saying, +"You were disappointed of your visit to Fairfield in the spring, +Elizabeth: would you like to go now? Lady Latimer renews her invitation, +and I will spare you for a week or two."</p> + +<p>Oh, the surprise and delight of this unexpected bounty! Bessie blushed +with gratitude. She was the most grateful soul alive, and for the +smallest mercies. Lady Latimer wrote that she should not find Fairfield +dull, for Dora Meadows was on a long stay there, and she expected her +friend Mr. Logger, and probably other visitors. Mr. Fairfax watched his +granddaughter narrowly through the perusal of the document. There could +be no denial that she was eagerness itself to go, but whether she had +any motive deeper than the renewal of love with the family amidst which +she had been brought up, he could not ascertain. There was a great +jealousy in his mind concerning that young Musgrave of whose visit to +Bayeux Mr. Cecil Burleigh had told him, and a settled purpose to hinder +Elizabeth from what he would have called an unequal match. At the same +time that he would not force her will, he would have felt fully +justified in thwarting it; but he had a hope that the romance of her +childish memories would fade at contact with present realities. Lady +Latimer had suggested this possible solution of a difficulty, and Lady +Angleby had supported her, and had agreed that it was time now to give +Mr. Cecil Burleigh a new opportunity of urging his suit, and the coy +young lady a chance of comparing him with those whom her affection and +imagination had invested with greater attractions. There was feminine +diplomacy in this, and the joyful accident that appeared to Bessie a +piece of spontaneous kindness and good-fortune was the result of a +well-laid and well-matured plan. However, as she remained in blissful +ignorance of the design, there was no shadow forecast upon her pleasure, +and she prepared for a fortnight's absence with satisfaction unalloyed.</p> + +<p>"You are quite sure you will not miss me, grandpapa—quite sure you can +do without me?" she affectionately pleaded.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>"Yes, yes, I can do without you. I shall miss you, and shall be glad to +see you home again, but you have deserved your holiday, and Lady Latimer +might feel hurt if I refused to let you go."</p> + +<p>Before leaving Woldshire, Bessie went to Norminster. The old house in +Minster Court was more delightful to her than ever. There was another +little boy in the nursery now, called Richard, after his grandfather. +Bessie had to seek Mrs. Laurence Fairfax at the Manor House, where Lady +Eden was celebrating the birthday of her eldest son. She was seated in +the garden conversing with a young Mrs. Tindal, amidst a group of +mothers besides, whose children were at play on the grass. Mr. Laurence +Fairfax was a man of philosophic benevolence, and when advances were +made to his wife (who had a sense and cleverness beyond anything that +could have been expected in anything so bewilderingly pretty) by ladies +of the rank to which he had raised her, he met them with courtesy, and +she had now two friends in Lady Eden and Mrs. Tindal, whose society she +especially enjoyed, because they all had babies and nearly of an age. +Bessie told her grandfather where and in what company she had found her +little cousins and their mother. The squire was silent, but he was not +affronted. No results, however, came of her information, and she left +Abbotsmead the next morning without any further reference to the family +in Minster Court.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3> + +<h3><i>SUNDAY MORNING AT BEECHHURST</i>.</h3> + +<p>Bessie Fairfax arrived at Fairfield late on Saturday night, and had the +warmest welcome from Lady Latimer. They were only four at dinner. Mr. +Logger and Dora Meadows made up the quartette, and as she was tired with +her journey, and the conversation both at table and in the drawing-room +was literary and political, she was thankful to be dismissed to her room +at an early hour. It was difficult to believe that she was actually +within two miles of home. She could see nothing from her window for the +night-dews, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>and she woke on Sunday morning to a thick Forest mist; but +by nine o'clock it had cleared, and it was a sumptuous day. She was full +of happy excitement, and proposed to set off betimes and walk to church. +Lady Latimer, in her most complacent humor, bade her do exactly what she +liked: there was Dora to accompany her if she walked, or there was room +in the carriage that would convey herself and Mr. Logger.</p> + +<p>The young ladies preferred to walk. Bessie had ridden that road with Mr. +Carnegie many and many a time, but had walked it seldom, for there were +short cuts through the brushwood and heather that she was wont to pursue +in her gypsy excursions with the doctor's boys. But these were not paths +for Sunday. She recollected going along that road with Lady Latimer and +her grandfather sorely against her inclination, and returning by the +same way with her grandfather and Mr. Wiley, when the rector, +admonishing her on the virtue of humility, roused her pride and ire by +his reminder of the lowly occupations to which her early patronesses had +destined her. She laughed to herself, but she blushed too, for the +recollection was not altogether agreeable.</p> + +<p>As they drew near to Beechhurst one familiar spot after another called +her attention. Then the church-bells began to ring for morning service, +and they were at the entrance of the town-street, with its little +bow-windowed shops shut up, and its pretty thatched cottages half buried +in flowery gardens that made sweet the air. Bessie's heart beat fast and +faster as she recognized one old acquaintance after another. Some looked +at her and looked again, and did not know her, but most of those she +remembered had a nod, a smile, or a kind word for her, and she smiled on +all. They all seemed like friends. Now Miss Wort rushed out of her gate +and rushed back, something necessary forgotten—gloves or prayer-book +probably. Then the school-children swarmed forth like bees from a hive, +loudly exhorted to peaceable behavior by jolly Miss Buff, who was too +much absorbed in her duty of marshalling them in order to walk the +twenty yards to church to see her young friend at first, but cried out +in a gust of enthusiasm when she did see her, "Oh, you dear little +Bessie! who would have thought it? I never heard you were coming. What a +surprise for them all! They will be delighted."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>"I am staying at Fairfield," said Bessie. "There had been so many +disappointments before that I would not promise again. But here I am, +and it seems almost too good to be true."</p> + +<p>"Here you are, and a picture of health and beauty; you don't mind my +telling you that? Nobody can say Woldshire disagrees with you."</p> + +<p>They walked on. They came in sight of the "King's Arms"—of the doctor's +house. "There is dear old Jack in the porch," said Bessie; and Miss +Buff, with a kind, sympathetic nod, turned off to the church gate and +left her. Jack marched down the path and Willie followed. Then Mrs. +Carnegie appeared, hustling dilatory Tom before her, and leading by the +hand Polly, a little white-frocked girl of nine. As they issued into the +road Bessie stepped more quickly forward. The boys stared at the elegant +young lady in mourning, and even her mother gazed for one moment with +grave, unrecognizing scrutiny. It was but for one moment, and then the +flooded blue eyes and tremulous lips revealed who it was.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is our Bessie!" cried Jack, and sprang at her with a shout, +quite forgetful of Sunday sobriety.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack! But you are taller than I am now," said she, arresting his +rough embrace and giving her hand to her mother. They kissed each other, +and, deferring all explanations, Bessie whispered, "May I come home with +you after service and spend the day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—father will be in then. He has had to go to Mrs. Christie: +Mr. Robb has been attending her lately, but the moment she is worse +nothing will pacify her but seeing her old doctor."</p> + +<p>They crossed the road to the church in a group. Mr. Phipps came up at +the moment, grotesque and sharp as ever. "Cinderella!" exclaimed he, +lifting his hat with ceremonious politeness. "But where is the prince?" +looking round and feigning surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the prince has not come yet," said Bessie with her beautiful blush.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie emitted a gentle sound, calling everybody to order, and +they entered the church. Bessie halted at the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>Carnegie pew, but the +children filled it, and as she knew those boys were only kept quiet +during service by maternal control, she passed on to the Fairfield pew +in the chancel, where Dora Meadows was already ensconced. Lady Latimer +presently arrived alone: Mr. Logger had committed himself to an opinion +that it was a shame to waste such a glorious morning in church, and had +declined, at the last moment, to come. He preferred to criticise +preachers without hearing them.</p> + +<p>The congregation was much fuller than Bessie remembered it formerly. +Beechhurst had reconciled itself to its pastor, and had found him not so +very bad after all. There was no other church within easy reach, divine +worship could not, with safety, be neglected altogether, and the +aversion with which he was regarded did not prove invincible. It was the +interest of the respectable church-people to get over it, and they had +got over it, pleading in extenuation of their indulgence that, in the +first place, the rector was a fixture, and in the second that his want +of social tact was his misfortune rather than his fault, and a clergyman +might have even worse defects than that. Lady Latimer, Admiral Parkins, +Mr. Musgrave, and Miss Wort had supported him in his office from the +first, and now Mr. Phipps and Mr. Carnegie did not systematically absent +themselves from his religious ministrations.</p> + +<p>The programme of the service, so to speak, was also considerably +enlarged since Bessie Fairfax went away. There was a nice-looking curate +whom she recollected as one of the rector's private pupils—Mr. Duffer. +There were twelve men and boys in white raiment, and Miss Buff, +presiding at the new organ with more than her ancient courage, executed +ambitious music that caused strangers and visitors to look up at the +loft and inquire who the organist was. Players and singers were not +always agreed, but no one could say otherwise than that, for a country +church, the performance was truly remarkable; and in the <i>Hampton +Chronicle</i>, when an account was given of special services, gratifying +mention was invariably made of Miss Buff as having presided at the organ +with her usual ability. Bessie hardly knew whether to laugh or cry as +she listened. Lady Latimer wore a countenance of ineffable patience. She +had fought the ground inch by inch <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>with the choral party in the +congregation, and inch by inch had lost it. The responses went first, +then the psalms, and this prolonged the service so seriously that twice +she walked out of the church during the pause before sermon; but being +pastorally condoled with on the infirmities inseparable from years which +prevented her sitting through the discourse, she warmly denied the +existence of any such infirmities, and the following Sunday she stayed +to the end. For the latest innovation Beechhurst was indebted to the +young curate, who had a round full voice. He would intone the prayers. +By this time my lady was tired of clerical vanities, and only remarked, +with a little disdain in her voice, that Mr. Duffer's proper place was +Whitchester Cathedral.</p> + +<p>When service was over Bessie whispered to her hostess the engagement she +had made for herself during the rest of the day. My lady gloomed for an +instant, and then assented, but Bessie ought to have asked her leave. +The two elder boys were waiting at the church-door as Bessie came out, +and snatched each a daintily gloved hand to conduct her home.</p> + +<p>"Mother has gone on first to warn father," Jack announced; and missing +other friends—the Musgraves, Mittens, and Semples, to wit—she allowed +herself to be led in triumph across the road and up the garden-walk, the +garden gay as ever with late-blooming roses and as fragrant of +mignonette.</p> + +<p>When she reached the porch she was all trembling. There was her mother, +rather flushed, with her bonnet-strings untied, and her father appearing +from the dining-parlor, where the table was spread for the family +dinner, just as of old.</p> + +<p>"This is as it should be; and how are you, my dear?" said Mr. Carnegie, +drawing her affectionately to him.</p> + +<p>"Is there any need to ask, Thomas? Could she have looked bonnier if she +had never left us?" said his wife fondly.</p> + +<p>Blushing, beaming, laughing, Bessie came in. How small the house seemed, +and how full! There was young Christie's picture of her smiling above +the mantelpiece, there was the doctor's old bureau and the old leathern +chair. Bridget and the younger branches appeared, some of them shy of +Bessie, and Totty particularly, who was the baby when she went away. +They crowded the stairs, the narrow hall. "Make <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>room there!" cried +Jack, imperative amidst the fuss; and her mother conveyed the trembling +girl up to her own dear old triangular nest under the thatch. The books, +the watery miniatures, the Oriental bowl and dishes were all in their +places. "Oh, mother, how happy I am to see it again!" cried she. And +they had a few tears to wink away, and with them the fancied +forgetfulnesses of the absent years.</p> + +<p>It was a noisy dinner in comparison with the serene dulness Bessie was +used to, but not noisier than it was entitled to be with seven children +at table, ranging from four to fourteen, for Sunday was the one day of +the week when Mr. Carnegie dined with his children, and it was his good +pleasure to dine with them all. So many bright faces and white pinafores +were a sweet spectacle to Bessie, who was so merry that Totty was quite +tamed by the time the dessert of ripe fruit came; and would sit on +"Sissy's" lap, and apply juicy grapes to "Sissy's" lips—then as "Sissy" +opened them, suddenly popped the purple globes into her own little +mouth, which made everybody laugh, and was evidently a good old family +joke.</p> + +<p>Dinner over, Mr. Carnegie adjourned to his study, where his practice was +to make up for short and often disturbed nights by an innocent nap on +Sunday afternoon. "We will go into the drawing-room, Bessie, as we +always do. Totty says a hymn with the others now, and will soon begin to +say her catechism, God bless her!" Thus Mrs. Carnegie.</p> + +<p>Bessie had now a boy clinging to either arm. They put her down in a +corner of the sofa, their mother occupying the other, and Totty throned +between them. There was a little desultory talk and seeking of places, +and then the four elder children, standing round the table, read a +chapter, verse for verse. Then followed the recitation of the catechism +in that queer, mechanical gabble that Bessie recollected so well. "If +you stop to think you are sure to break down," was still the warning. +After that Jack said the collect and epistle for the day, and Willie and +Tom said the gospel, and the lesser ones said psalms and hymns and +spiritual songs; and by the time this duty was accomplished Bridget had +done dinner, and arrived in holiday gown and ribbons to resume her +charge. In a few minutes Bessie was left alone with her mother. The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>boys went to consult a favorite pear-tree in the orchard, and as Jack +was seen an hour or two later perched aloft amongst its gnarled branches +with a book, it is probable that he chose that retreat to pursue +undisturbed his seafaring studies by means of Marryat's novels.</p> + +<p>"I like to keep up old-fashioned customs, Bessie," said her mother. "I +know the dear children have been taught their duty, and if they forget +it sometimes there is always a hope they may return. Mrs. Wiley and Lady +Latimer have asked for them to attend the Bible classes, but their +father was strongly against it; and I think, with him, that if they are +not quite so cleverly taught at home, there is a feeling in having +learnt at their mother's knees which will stay by them longer. It is +growing quite common for young ladies in Beechhurst to have classes in +the evening for servant-girls and others, but I cannot say I favor them: +the girls get together gossipping and stopping out late, and the +teachers are so set up with notions of superior piety that they are +quite spoilt. And they do break out in the ugliest hats and +clothes—faster than the gayest of the young ladies who don't pretend to +be so over-righteous. You have not fallen into that way, dear Bessie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no. I do not even teach in the Sunday-school at Kirkham. It is very +small. Mr. Forbes does not encourage the attendance of children whose +parents are able to instruct them themselves."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear it. I do not approve of this system of relieving +parents of their private duties. Mr. Wiley carries it to excess, and +will not permit any poor woman to become a member of the +coal-and-clothing club who does not send her children to Sunday-school: +the doctor has refused his subscription in consequence, and divides it +amongst the recusants. For a specimen of Miss Myra Robb's evening-class +teaching we have a girl who provokes Bridget almost past her patience: +she cannot say her duty to her neighbor in the catechism, and her +practice of it is so imperfect that your father begs me, the next time I +engage a scullery-wench, to ascertain that she is not infected with the +offensive pious conceit that distinguishes poor Eliza. Our own dear +children are affectionate and good, on the whole. Jack has made up his +mind to the sea, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>Willie professes that he will be a doctor, like +his father; he could not be better. They are both at Hampton School yet, +but we have them over for Sunday while the summer weather continues."</p> + +<p>When Bessie had heard the family news and all about the children, she +had to tell her own, and very interesting her mother found it. She had +to answer numerous questions concerning Mr. Laurence Fairfax, his wife +and boys, and then Mrs. Carnegie inquired about that fine gentleman of +whose pretensions to Miss Fairfax Lady Latimer had warned her. Bessie +blushed rather warmly, and told what facts there were to tell, and she +now learnt for the first time that her wooing was a matter of +arrangement and policy. The information was not gratifying, to judge +from the hot fire of her face and the tone of her rejoinder. "Mr. Cecil +Burleigh is a fascinating person—so I am assured—but I don't think I +was the least bit in love," she averred with energetic scorn. Her mother +smiled, and did not say so much in reply as Bessie thought she might.</p> + +<p>Presently they went into the orchard, and insensibly the subject was +renewed. Bessie remembered afterward saying many things that she never +meant to say. She mentioned how she had first seen Mr. Cecil Burleigh at +the Fairfield wedding devoted to a most lovely young lady whom she had +seen again at Ryde, and had known as Miss Julia Gardiner. "I thought +they were engaged," she said. "I am sure they were lovers for a long +while."</p> + +<p>"You were under that impression throughout?" Mrs. Carnegie suggested +interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Yes. From the day I saw them together at Ryde I had no other thought. +He was grandpapa's friend, grandpapa forwarded his election for +Norminster, and as I was the young lady of the house at Abbotsmead, it +was not singular that he should be kind and attentive to me, was it? I +am quite certain that he was as little in love with me as I was with +him, though he did invite me to be his wife. I felt very much insulted +that he should suppose me such a child as not to know that he did not +care for me; it was not in that way he had courted Miss Julia Gardiner."</p> + +<p>"It is a much commoner thing than you imagine for a man <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>to be unable to +marry as his heart would dictate. But he is not for that to remain +single all his life, is he?" said Mrs. Carnegie.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not; I should respect him more if he did. I will remain single +all my life unless I find somebody to love me first and best," said +Bessie with the airy assurance of the romantic age.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, and I trust you may, for affection is the great sweetener +of life, and it must be hard getting along without it. But here is +father."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie, his nap over, had seen his wife and Bessie from the +study-window. He drew Bessie's hand through his arm and asked what they +were so earnest in debate upon. Not receiving an immediate answer, he +went on to remark to his wife that their little Bessie was not spoilt by +her life among her high-born friends. "For anything I can see, she is +our dear Bessie still."</p> + +<p>"So she is, Thomas—self-will and her own opinion and all," replied her +mother, looking fondly in her face.</p> + +<p>Bessie laughed and blushed. "You never expected perfection in me, nor +too much docility," she said.</p> + +<p>The doctor patted her hand, and told her she was good enough for human +nature's daily companionship. Then he began to give her news of their +neighbors. "It falls out fortunately that it is holiday-time. Young +Christie is here: you know him? He told us how he had met you at some +grand house in the winter, where he went to paint a picture: the lady +had too little expression to please him, and he was not satisfied with +his work. She was, fortunately, and her husband too, for he had a +hundred pounds for the picture—like coining money his father says. He +is very good to the old people, and makes them share his prosperity—a +most excellent son." Bessie listened for another name of an excellent +son. It came. "And Harry Musgrave is at Brook for a whiff of country +air. That young man works and plays very hard: he must take heed not to +overdo it."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall see all my friends while I am in the Forest," said Bessie, +very glad.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and as pleased they will be to see you. Mother, Bessie might walk +to Brook with me before tea. They will <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>be uncommonly gratified, and she +will get over to us many another day," Mr. Carnegie proposed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Thomas, if it will not overtire her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing overtires me," said Bessie. "Let us go by Great-Ash Ford."</p> + +<p>Before they started the doctor had a word or two with his wife alone. He +wanted to hear what she had made out from dear Bessie herself respecting +that grand gentleman, the member of Parliament, who by Lady Latimer's +account was her suitor some time ago and still.</p> + +<p>"I am puzzled, Thomas, and that is the truth—girls are so deep," Mrs. +Carnegie said.</p> + +<p>"Too deep sometimes for their own comprehension—eh? At any rate, she is +not moping and pining. She is as fresh as a rose, and her health and +spirits are all right. I don't remember when I have felt so thankful as +at the sight of her bonny face to-day."</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>SUNDAY EVENING AT BROOK.</i></h3> + +<p>That still Sunday afternoon across the glowing heath to Great-Ash Ford +was most enchanting. Every step of the way was a pleasure to Bessie. And +when they came to the ford, whom should they see resting under the shade +of the trees but Harry Musgrave and young Christie? Harry's attitude was +somewhat weary. He leant on one elbow, recumbent upon the turf, and with +flat pebbles dexterously thrown made ducks and drakes upon the surface +of the shallow pool where the cattle drank. Young Christie was talking +with much earnestness—propounding some argument apparently—and neither +observed the approach of Mr. Carnegie and his companion until they were +within twenty paces. Then a sudden flush overspread Harry's face. "It +<i>is</i> Bessie Fairfax!" said he, and sprang to his feet and advanced to +meet her. Bessie was rosy too, and her eyes dewy bright. Young Christie, +viewing her as an artist, called her to himself the sweetest and most +womanly of women, and admired her the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>more for her kind looks at his +friend. Harry's <i>ennui</i> was quite routed.</p> + +<p>"We were walking to Brook—your mother will give us a cup of tea, +Harry?" said Mr. Carnegie.</p> + +<p>Harry was walking home to Brook too, with Christie for company; his +mother would be only too proud to entertain so many good friends. They +went along by the rippling water together, and entered the familiar +garden by the wicket into the wood. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave were out there +on the green slope under the beeches, awaiting their son and his friend, +and lively were their exclamations of joy when they saw who their other +visitors were.</p> + +<p>"Did I not tell you little Bessie was at church, Harry?" cried his +father, turning to him with an air of triumph.</p> + +<p>"And he would not believe it. I thought myself it must be a mistake," +said Mrs. Musgrave.</p> + +<p>Bessie was touched to the heart by their cordial welcome. She made a +most favorable impression. Mr. Musgrave thought her as handsome a young +lady as a man could wish to look at, and his wife said her good heart +could be seen in her face.</p> + +<p>Bessie felt, nevertheless, rather more formally at home than in her +childhood, except with her old comrade Harry. Between them there was not +a moment's shyness. They were as friendly, as intimate as formerly, +though with a perceptible difference of manner. Bessie had the simple +graces of happy maidenhood, and Harry had the courteous reserve of good +society to which his university honors and pleasant humor had introduced +him. He was a very acceptable companion wherever he went, because his +enjoyment of life was so thorough as to be almost infectious. He must be +a dull dog, indeed, who did not cheer up in the sunshine of Musgrave's +presence: that was his popular character, and it agreed with Bessie's +reminiscences of him; but Harry, like other young men of great hopes and +small fortunes, had his hours of shadow that Christie knew of and others +guessed at. At tea the talk fell on London amusements and bachelor-life +in chambers.</p> + +<p>"As for Christie, prudent old fogy that he is, what can he know of our +miseries?" said Harry with assumed ruefulness "He has a mansion in +Cheyne Walk and a balcony looking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>over the river, and a vigilant +housekeeper who allows no latch-key and turns off the gas at eleven. She +gives him perfect little dinners, and makes him too comfortable by half: +we poor apprentices to law lodge and fare very rudely."</p> + +<p>"He has the air of being well done to, which is more than could be said +for you when first you arrived at home, Harry," remarked his mother with +what struck Bessie as a long and wistful gaze.</p> + +<p>"Too much smell of the midnight oil is poison to country lungs—mind +what I tell you," said the doctor, emphasizing his words with a grave +nod at the young man.</p> + +<p>"He ought to be content with less of his theatres and his operas and +supper-parties if he will read and write so furiously. A young fellow +can't combine the lives of a man of study and a man of leisure without +stealing too many hours from his natural rest. But I talk in vain—talk +you, Mr. Carnegie," said Christie with earnestness.</p> + +<p>"A man must work, and work hard, now-a-days, if he means to do or be +anything," said Harry defiantly.</p> + +<p>"It is the pace that kills," said the doctor. "The mischief is, that you +ardent young fellows never know when to stop. And in public life, my +lad, there is many a one comes to acknowledge that he has made more +haste than good speed."</p> + +<p>Harry sank back in his chair with laughing resignation; it was too bad, +he said, to talk of him to his face so dismally. Bessie Fairfax was +looking at him, her eyebrows raised, and fancying she saw a change; he +was certainly not so brown as he used to be, nor so buoyant, nor so +animated. But it would have perplexed her to define what the change she +fancied was. Conscious of her observation, Harry dissembled a minute, +then pushed back his chair, and invited her to come away to the old +sitting-room, where the evening sun shone. No one offered to follow +them; they were permitted to go alone.</p> + +<p>The sitting-room looked a trifle more dilapidated, but was otherwise +unaltered, and was Harry's own room still, by the books, pens, ink, and +paper on the table. Being by themselves, silence ensued. Bessie sadly +wondered whether anything was really going wrong with her beloved Harry, +and he knew that she was wondering. Then she remem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>bered what young +Christie had said at Castlemount of his being occasionally short of +money, and would have liked to ask. But when she had reflected a moment +she did not dare. Their boy-and-girl days, their days of plain, +outspoken confidence, were for ever past. That one year of absence spent +by him in London, by her at Abbotsmead, had insensibly matured the +worldly knowledge of both, and without a word spoken each recognized the +other's position, but without diminution of their ancient kindness.</p> + +<p>This recognition, and certain possible, even probable, results had been +anticipated before Bessie was suffered to come into the Forest. Lady +Angleby had said to Mr. Fairfax: "Entrust her to Lady Latimer for a +short while. Granting her humble friends all the virtues that humanity +adorns itself with, they must want some of the social graces. Those +people always dispense more or less with politeness in their familiar +intercourse. Now, Cecil is exquisitely polite, and Miss Fairfax has a +fine, delicate feeling. She cannot but make comparisons and draw +conclusions. Solid worth apart, the charm of manner is with us. I shall +expect decisive consequences from this visit."</p> + +<p>What Bessie actually discerned was that all the old tenderness that had +blessed her childhood, and that gives the true sensitive touch, was +still abiding: father, mother, Harry—dearest of all who were most dear +to her—had not lost one whit of it. And judged by the eye, where love +looked out, Harry's great frame, well knit and suppled by athletic +sports, had a dignity, and his irregular features a beauty, that pleased +her better than dainty, high-bred elegance. He had to push his way over +the obstacles of poverty and obscure birth, and she was a young lady of +family and fortune, but she looked up to him with as meek a humility as +ever she had done when they were friends and comrades together, before +her vicissitudes began and her exalted kinsfolk reclaimed her. Woldshire +had not acquainted her with his equal. All the world never would.</p> + +<p>Their conversation was opened at last with a surprised smile at finding +themselves where they were—in the bare sitting-room at Brook, with the +western light shining on them through the vine-trellised lattices after +four years of growth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>and experience. How often had Bessie made a +picture in her day-dreams of their next meeting here since she went +away! In this hour, in this instant, love was new-born in both their +hearts. They saw it, each in the other's eyes—heard it, each in the +other's voice. Tears came with Bessie's sudden smile. She trembled and +sighed and laughed, and said she did not know why she was so foolish. +Harry was foolish too as he made her some indistinct plea about being so +glad. And a red spot burned on his own cheek as he dwelt on her +loveliness. Once more they were silent, then both at once began to talk +of people and things indifferent, coming gradually round to what +concerned themselves.</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave spoke of his friend Christie and his profession +relatively to his own: "Christie has distinguished himself already. +There are houses in London where the hostess has a pride in bringing +forward young talent. Christie got the <i>entrée</i> of one of the best at +the beginning of his career, and is quite a favorite. His gentleness is +better than conventional polish, but he has taken that well too. He is a +generous little fellow, and deserves the good luck that has befallen +him. His honors are budding betimes. That is the joy of an artistic +life—you work, but it is amongst flowers. Christie will be famous +before he is thirty, and he is easy in his circumstances now: he will +never be more, never rich; he is too open-handed for that. But I shall +have years and years to toil and wait," Harry concluded with a +melancholy, humorous fall in his voice, half mocking at himself and half +pathetic, and the same was his countenance.</p> + +<p>All the more earnestly did Bessie brighten: "You knew that, Harry, when +you chose the law. But if you work amongst bookworms and cobwebs, don't +you play in the sunshine?"</p> + +<p>"Now and then, Bessie, but there will be less and less of that if I +maintain my high endeavors."</p> + +<p>"You will, Harry, you must! You will never be satisfied else. But there +is no sentiment in the law—it is dreary, dreary."</p> + +<p>"No sentiment in the law? It is a laborious calling, but many honorable +men follow it; and are not the lawyers continually helping those to +right who suffer wrong?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>"That is not the vulgar idea of them, is it? But I believe it is what +you will always strive to do, Harry." Bessie spoke with pretty +eagerness. She feared that she might have seemed to contemn Harry's +vocation, and she hastened to make amends. Harry understood her +perfectly, and had the impudence to laugh at her quite in his old boyish +way. A little confused—also in the old way—she ran on: "I have seen +the judges in their scarlet robes and huge white wigs on a hot July +Sunday attending service in Norminster Cathedral. I tried to attire you +so, but my imagination failed. I don't believe you will ever be a judge, +Harry."</p> + +<p>"That is a discouraging prediction, Bessie, if I am to be a lawyer. I do +a little in this way," he said, handling a famous review that lay on the +table. "May I send it to you when there is a paper of mine in it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; I should like it so much! I should be so interested!" said +Bessie fervently. "We take the <i>Times</i> at Abbotsmead, and <i>Blackwood</i> +and the old <i>Quarterly</i>, but not that. I have seen it at my uncle +Laurence's house, and Lady Latimer has it. I saw it in the Fairfield +drawing-room last night: is there anything of yours here, Harry?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, this is mine—a rather dry nut for you. But occasionally I +contribute a light-literature article."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I must tell my lady. She and Mr. Logger were differing over that +very paper, and ascribing it to half a dozen great, wise people in +turn."</p> + +<p>Harry laughed: "Pray, then, don't confess for me. The arguments will +lose half their force if she learn what a tyro wrote it."</p> + +<p>"No, no, she will be delighted to know—she adores talent. Besides, Mr. +Logger told her that the cleverest articles were written by sprightly +young men fresh from college. Have you paid your respects to her yet? +She told me with a significant little <i>moue</i> that you had condescended +to call upon her at Easter."</p> + +<p>"I propose to pay my respects in company with Christie to-morrow. She is +a grand old lady; and what cubs we were, Bessie, to throw her kindness +in her face before! How angry you were!"</p> + +<p>"You were afraid that her patronage might be a trespass <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>on your +independence. It was a mistake in the right direction, if it was a +mistake at all. Poor Mr. Logger is called a toady because he loves to +visit at the comfortable houses of rich great widow ladies, but I am +sure they love to have him. Lady Latimer does not approve you any the +less for not being eager to accept her invitations. You know I was fond +of her—I looked up to her more than anybody. I believe I do still."</p> + +<p>There was a brief pause, and then Harry said, "I have heard nothing of +Abbotsmead yet, Bessie?"</p> + +<p>"There is not much to hear. I live there, but no longer in the character +of heiress; that prospect is changed by the opportune discovery that my +uncle Laurence had the wisdom, some five years ago, to take a wife to +please himself, instead of a second fine lady to please my grandfather. +He made a secret of it, for which there was no necessity and not much +excuse, but he did it for their happiness. They have three capital +little boys, who, of course, have taken my shoes. I am not sorry. I +don't care for Woldshire or Abbotsmead. The Forest has my heart."</p> + +<p>"And mine. A man may set his hopes high, so I go on aspiring to the +possession of this earthly paradise of Brook."</p> + +<p>Bessie was smitten with a sudden recollection of what more Harry had +aspired to that time she was admitted into his confidence respecting the +old manor-house. She colored consciously, for she knew that he also +recollected, then said with a smile, "Ah, Harry, but between such +aspirations and their achievement there stretches so often a weary long +day. You will tire with looking forward if you look so far. Are you not +tiring now?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. You must not take any notice of my mother's solemn prognostics. +She does not admire what she calls the smoky color I bring home from +London. Some remote ancestor of my father died there of decline, and she +has taken up a notion that I ought to throw the study of the law to the +winds, come home, and turn farmer. Of what avail, I ask her, would my +scholarship be then?"</p> + +<p>"You would enjoy it, Harry. In combination with a country life it would +make you the pleasantest life a man can live."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>Harry shook his head: "What do you know about it, Bessie? It is +dreadfully hard on an ambitious fellow to be forced to turn his back on +all his fine visions of usefulness and distinction for the paltry fear +that death may cut him short."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you regard it in that light! I should not call it a paltry fear. +There are more ways than one to distinction—this, for instance," +dropping her hand on Harry's paper in the review. "Winged words fly far, +and influence you never know what minds. I should be proud of the +distinction of a public writer."</p> + +<p>"Literature by itself is not enough to depend on unless one draws a +great prize of popularity. I have not imagination enough to write a +novel. Have you forgotten the disasters of your heroes the poets, +Bessie? No—I cannot give up after a year of difficulty. I would rather +rub out than rust out, if that be all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Harry, don't be provoking! Why rub out or rust out either?" +remonstrated Bessie. "Your mother would rather keep her living son, +though ever so unlucky, than bury the most promising that ever killed +himself with misdirected labor. Two young men came to Abbotsmead once to +bid grandpapa good-bye; they were only nineteen and sixteen, and were +the last survivors of a family of seven sons. They were going to New +Zealand to save their lives, and are thriving there in a patriarchal +fashion with large families and flocks and herds. You are not asked to +go to New Zealand, but you had better do that than die untimely in foggy +England, dear as it is. Is not life sweet to you?—it is very sweet to +me."</p> + +<p>Harry got up, and walked to an open lattice that commanded the purple +splendor of the western sky. He stood there two or three minutes quite +silent, then by a glance invited Bessie to come. "Life is so sweet," he +said, "that I dare not risk marring it by what seems like cowardice; but +I will be prudent, if only for the sake of the women who love me." There +was the old mirthful light in Harry's eyes as he said the last words +very softly.</p> + +<p>"Don't make fun of us," said Bessie, looking up with a faint blush. "You +know we love you; mind you keep your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>word. It is time I was going back +to Fairfield, the evening is closing in."</p> + +<p>The door opened and Mrs. Musgrave entered. "Well, children, are you +ready?" she inquired cheerfully. "We are all thinking you have had quite +time enough to tell your secrets, and the doctor has been wanting to +leave for ever so long."</p> + +<p>"Bessie has been administering a lecture, mother, and giving me some +serious advice; she would send me to the antipodes," said her son. +Bessie made a gentle show of denial, and they came forward from the +window.</p> + +<p>"Never mind him, dear, that is his teasing way: I know how much to +believe of his nonsense," said Mrs. Musgrave. "But," she added more +gravely, turning to Harry, "if Bessie agrees with your mother that there +is no sense in destroying your health by poring over dusty law in London +when there are wholesome light ways of living to be turned to in sweet +country air, Bessie is wise. I wish anybody could persuade him to tell +what is his objection to the Church. Or he might go and be a tutor in +some high family, as Lady Latimer suggested. He is well fitted for it."</p> + +<p>"Did Lady Latimer suggest that, mother?" Harry asked with sharp +annoyance in his voice and look.</p> + +<p>"She did, Harry; and don't let that vex you as if it was a coming-down. +For she said that many such tutors, when they took orders, got good +promotion, and more than one had been made a bishop."</p> + +<p>This was too much for the gravity of the young people. "A bishop, +Bessie! Can you array me in lawn sleeves and satin gown?" cried Harry +with a peal of laughter. Then, with a sudden recovery and a sigh, he +said, "Nay, mother, if I must play a part, it shall not be on that +stage. I'll keep my self-respect, whatever else I forfeit."</p> + +<p>"You will have your own way, Harry, lead where it will; your father and +me have not that to learn at this time of day. But, Bessie joy, Mr. +Carnegie's in a hurry, and it is a good step to Fairfield. We shall see +you often while you are in the Forest, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Staying with Lady Latimer is not quite the same as being at home, but I +shall try to come again."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>"Do, dear—we shall be more than pleased; you were ever a favorite at +Brook," said Mrs. Musgrave tenderly. Bessie kissed Harry's mother, shook +hands with himself and his father, who also patted her on the back as a +reminder of old familiarity, and then went off with Mr. Carnegie, +light-hearted and light-footed, a picture of young content. The doctor, +after one glance at her blithe face, thought that he could tell his wife +when he got home who it was their little Bessie really loved.</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave took his hat to set Christie part of the way back to +Beechhurst in the opposite direction. The young men talked as they +walked, Christie resuming the argument that the apparition of Bessie +Fairfax had interrupted in the afternoon. The argument was that which +Mrs. Musgrave had enunciated against the study of the law. Harry was not +much moved by it. If he had a new motive for prudence, he had also a new +and very strong motive for persistence. Christie suspected as much, but +the name of Miss Fairfax was not mentioned.</p> + +<p>"You have made your mark in that review, and literature is as fair a +profession as art if a man will only be industrious," he said.</p> + +<p>"I hate the notion of task-work and drudgery in literature; and what +sort of a living is to be got out of our inspirations?" objected Harry.</p> + +<p>"It is good to bear the yoke in our youth: I find it discipline to paint +pot-boilers," rejoined little Christie mildly. "You must write +pot-boilers for the magazines. The best authors do it."</p> + +<p>"It is not easy to get a footing in a magazine where one would care to +appear. There are not many authors whose sole dependence is a +goose-quill. Call over the well-known men; they are all something else +before they are authors. Your pot-boilers are sure of a market; pictures +have become articles of furniture, indispensable to people of taste, and +everybody has a taste now-a-days. But rejected papers are good for +nothing but to light one's fire, if one can keep a fire. Look at +Stamford! Stamford has done excellent work for thirty years; he has been +neither idle nor thriftless, and he lives from hand to mouth still. He +is one of the writers for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>bread, who must take the price he can get, +and not refuse it, lest he get nothing. And that would be my case—is my +case—for, as you know, my pen provides two-thirds of my maintenance. I +cannot tax my father further. If I had not missed that fellowship! The +love of money may be a root of evil, but the want of it is an evil grown +up and bearing fruit that sets the teeth on edge."</p> + +<p>"My dear Musgrave, that is the voice of despair, and for such a +universal <i>crux</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I don't despair, but I am tried, partly by my hard lines and partly by +the anxieties at home that infect me. To think that with this frame," +striking out his muscular right arm, "even Carnegie warns me as if I +were a sick girl! The sins of the fathers are the modern Nessus' shirt +to their children. I shall do my utmost to hold on until I get my call +to the bar and a platform to start from. If I cannot hold on so long, +I'll call it, as my mother does, defeat by visitation of God, and step +down to be a poor fellow amongst other poor fellows. But that is not the +life I planned for."</p> + +<p>"We all know that, Musgrave, and there is no quarter where you won't +meet the truest sympathy. Many a man has to come down from the tall +pedestal where his hopes have set him, and, unless it be by his own +grievous fault, he is tolerably sure to find his level of content on the +common ground. That's where I mean to walk with my Janey; and some day +you'll hold up a finger, and just as sweet a companion will come and +walk hand in hand with you."</p> + +<p>Harry smiled despite his trouble; he knew what Christie meant, and he +believed him. He parted with his friend there, and turned back in the +soft gloom towards home, thinking of her all the way—dear little +Bessie, so frank and warm-hearted. He remembered how, when he was a boy +and lost a certain prize at school that he had reckoned on too +confidently, she had whispered away his shame-faced disappointment with +a rosy cheek against his jacket, and "Never mind, Harry, I love you." +And she would do it again, he knew she would. The feeling was in +her—she could not hide it.</p> + +<p>But at this point of his meditations his worldly wisdom came in to dash +their beauty. Unless he could bridge with bow of highest promise the +gulf that vicissitude had opened <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>between them since those days of +primitive affection, he need not set his mind upon her. He ought not, so +he told himself, though his mind was set upon her already beyond the +chance of turning. He did not know yet that he had a rival; when that +knowledge came all other obstacles, sentimental, chivalrous, would be +swallowed up in its portentous shadow. For to-night he held his reverie +in peace.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3> + +<h3><i>AT FAIRFIELD.</i></h3> + +<p>"We thought you were lost," was Lady Latimer's greeting to Bessie +Fairfax when she entered the Fairfield drawing-room, tired with her long +walk, but still in buoyant spirits.</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" said Bessie. "I have come from Brook. When I had seen them all +at home my father carried me off there to tea."</p> + +<p>"I observed that you were not at the evening service. The Musgraves and +those people drink tea at five o'clock: you must be ready for your +supper now. Mr. Logger, will you be so good as to ring the bell?"</p> + +<p>Bessie was profoundly absorbed in her own happiness, but Lady Latimer's +manner, and still more the tone of her voice, struck her with an +uncomfortable chill. "Thank you, but I do not wish for anything to eat," +she said, a little surprised.</p> + +<p>The bell had rung, however, and the footman appeared. "Miss Fairfax will +take supper—she dined in the middle of the day," said Lady Latimer, but +nothing could be less hospitable than the inflection of her speech as +she gave the order.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed, I am not hungry; we had chicken and tongue to tea," +cried Bessie, rather shamefaced now.</p> + +<p>"And matrimony-cake and hot buttered toast—"</p> + +<p>"No, we had no matrimony-cake," said Bessie, who understood now that my +lady was cross; and no one could be more taunting and unpleasant than my +lady when she was cross.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>The footman had taken Miss Fairfax's remonstrative statement for a +negative, and had returned to his own supper when the drawing-room bell +rang again: "Why do you not announce Miss Fairfax's supper? Is it not +ready yet?"</p> + +<p>"In a minute, my lady," said the man, and vanished. In due time he +reappeared to say that supper was served, and Lady Latimer looked at her +young guest and repeated the notice. Bessie laughed, and, rising with a +fine color and rather proud air, left the room and went straight to bed. +When neither she nor Mrs. Betts came in to prayers half an hour later, +my lady became silent and reflective: she was not accustomed to revolt +amongst her young ladies, and Miss Fairfax's quiet defiance took her at +a disadvantage. She had anticipated a much more timid habit in this +young lady, whom she had undertaken to manage and mould to the will of +her grandfather. In the morning her humor was gracious again, and +Bessie, who had received counsel from Dora Meadows, deeply experienced +in Aunt Olympia's peculiarities, made no sign of remembering that there +had been any fray. But she was warned of the imperious temper of her +hostess, who would have no independence of action amongst her youthful +charges, but expected them to consult her and defer to her at every +step. "Why, then," thought Bessie, "did she bid me, in the first +instance, do exactly what I liked?" To this there was no answer: is +there ever an answer to the <i>why</i> of an exacting woman's caprice?</p> + +<p>After breakfast the young ladies took Mr. Logger out for a salubrious +airing across the heath. In their absence Harry Musgrave and young +Christie called at Fairfield, and, no longer in terror of Lady Latimer's +patronage, talked to her of themselves, which she liked. She was +exceedingly kind, and asked them both to dine the next day. "You will +meet Mr. Cecil Burleigh: you may have heard his name, Mr. Musgrave? The +Conservative member for Norminster," she said rather imposingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, he is one of the coming men," said Harry, much interested, and +he accepted the invitation. Mr. Christie declined it. His mother was +very ill, he said, but he would send his portfolio for her ladyship to +look over, if she would allow him. Her ladyship would be delighted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>When the young ladies brought Mr. Logger back to luncheon the visitors +were gone, but Lady Latimer mentioned that they had been there, and she +gave Mr. Logger a short account of them: "Mr. Harry Musgrave is reading +for the bar. He took honors at Oxford, and if his constitution will +stand the wear and tear of a laborious, intellectual life, great things +may be expected from him. But unhappily he is not very strong." Mr. +Logger shook his head, and said it was the London gas. "Mr. Christie is +a son of our village wheelwright, himself a most ingenious person. Mr. +Danberry found him out, and spoke those few words of judicious praise +that revealed the young man to himself as an artist. Mr. Danberry was +staying with me at the time, and we had him here with his sketches, +which were so promising that we encouraged him to make art his study. +And he has done so with much credit."</p> + +<p>"Christie? a landscape-painter? does a portrait now and then? I have met +him at Danberry's," said Mr. Logger, whose vocation it was to have met +everybody who was likely to be mentioned in society. "Curious now: +Archdeacon Topham was the son of a country carpenter: headstrong +fellow—took a mountain-walk without a guide, and fell down a +<i>crevasse</i>, or something."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh arrived the next day to luncheon. In the afternoon +the whole party walked in the Forest. Lady Latimer kept Dora at her +elbow, and required Mr. Logger's opinion and advice on a new emigration +scheme that she was endeavoring to develop. Bessie Fairfax was thus left +to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and they were not at a loss for conversation. +Bessie was feeling quite gay and happy, and talked and listened as +cheerfully as possible. The gentleman was rather jaded with the work of +the session, and showed it in his handsome visage. He assumed that Miss +Fairfax was so far in his confidence as to be interested in the high +themes that interested himself, and of these he discoursed until his +companion inadvertently betrayed that she was capable of abstracting her +mind and thinking of something else while seeming to give him all her +polite attention. He was then silent—not unthankfully.</p> + +<p>Their walk took them first round by the wheelwright's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>and afterward by +the village. Lady Latimer loved to entertain and occupy her guests, even +those who would have preferred wider margins of leisure. On the green in +front of the wheelwright's they found little Christie seated under a +white umbrella, making a sketch of his father's house and the shed. A +group of sturdy children had put themselves just in the way by a +disabled wagon to give it life.</p> + +<p>"I am doing it to please my mother," said the artist in reply to Lady +Latimer's inquiry if he was going to make a finished picture of it. He +went on with his dainty touches without moving. "I must not lose the +five-o'clock effect of the sun through that tall fir," he explained +apologetically.</p> + +<p>"No; continue, pray, continue," said my lady, and summoned her party to +proceed.</p> + +<p>At the entrance of the village, to Bessie's great joy, they fell in with +Mr. Carnegie returning from a long round on horseback.</p> + +<p>"Would Bessie like a ride with the old doctor to-morrow?" he asked her +as the others strolled on.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes—I have brought my habit," she said enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>"Then Miss Hoyden shall trot along with me, and we'll call for you—not +later than ten, Bessie, and you'll not keep me waiting."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; I will be ready. Lady Latimer has not planned anything for the +morning, so I may be excused."</p> + +<p>Whether Lady Latimer had planned anything for the morning or not, she +manifested a lofty displeasure that Miss Fairfax had planned this ride +for herself. Dora whispered to her not to mind, it would soon blow over. +So Bessie went up stairs to dress somewhat relieved, but still with a +doubtful mind and a sense of indignant astonishment at my lady's +behavior to her. She thought it very odd, and speculated whether there +might be any reason for it beyond the failure in deference to herself.</p> + +<p>An idea struck her when she saw Mrs. Betts unfolding her most sumptuous +dress—a rich white silk embroidered in black and silver for +mourning—evidently in the intention of adorning her to the highest. +"Oh, not that dress," she said. "I will wear my India muslin with black +ribbons."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>"It is quite a set party, miss," remonstrated Mrs. Betts.</p> + +<p>"No matter," said Bessie decisively. No, she would not triumph over dear +Harry with grand clothes.</p> + +<p>When her young lady had spoken, Mrs. Betts knew that it was spending her +breath in vain to contradict; and Bessie went down to the drawing-room +with an air of inexpensive simplicity very becoming to her beauty, and +that need not alarm a poor gentleman who might have visions of her as a +wife. Lady Latimer instantly accused and convicted her of that intention +in it—in her private thoughts, that is. My lady herself was magnificent +in purple satin, and little Dora Meadows had put on her finest raiment; +but Bessie, with her wealth of fair hair and incomparable beauty of +coloring, still glowed the most; and she glowed with more than her +natural rose when Lady Latimer, after looking her up and down from head +to foot with extreme deliberation, turned away with a scorny face. +Bessie's eyes sparkled, and Mr. Logger, who saw all and saw nothing, +perceived that she could look scorny too.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh was pacing to and fro the conservatory into which a +glass door opened from the drawing-room. His hands were clasped behind +him, and his head was bent down as if he were in a profoundly cogitative +mood. "I am afraid Burleigh is rather out of sorts—the effect of +overstrain, the curse of our time," said Mr. Logger sententiously. Mr. +Logger himself was admirably preserved.</p> + +<p>"He is looking remarkably well, on the contrary," said Lady Latimer. My +lady was certainly not in her most beneficent humor. Dora darted an +alarmed glance at Bessie, and at that moment Mr. Musgrave was announced.</p> + +<p>Bessie blushed him a sweet welcome, and said, perhaps unnecessarily, "I +am so glad you have come!" and Harry expressed his thanks with kind eyes +and a very cordial shake of the hand: they appeared quite confidentially +intimate, those young people. Lady Latimer stood looking on like a +picture of dignity, and when Mr. Cecil Burleigh entered from the +conservatory she introduced the two young men in her stateliest manner. +Bessie was beginning now to understand what all this meant. Throughout +the dinner my lady never relaxed. She was formally courteous, +elaborately gracious, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>but <i>grande dame</i> from her shoe-tie to the +top-knot of her cap.</p> + +<p>Those who knew her well were ill at ease, but Harry Musgrave dined in +undisturbed, complacent comfort. He had known dons at Oxford, and placed +Lady Latimer in the donnish caste: that was all. He thought she had been +a more charming woman. The conversation was interrogatory, and chiefly +addressed to himself, and he had plenty to say and a pleasant way of +saying it, but except for Bessie's dear bright face opposite the +atmosphere would have been quite freezing. When the ladies withdrew, Mr. +Logger almost immediately followed, and then Mr. Cecil Burleigh was +himself again. He unbent to this athletic young man, whose Oxford +double-first was the hall-mark of his quality, and whom Miss Fairfax was +so frankly glad to see. Harry Musgrave had heard the reputation of the +other, and met his condescension with the easy deference of a young man +who knows the world. They were mutually interesting, and stayed in the +dining-room until Lady Latimer sent to say that tea was in.</p> + +<p>When they entered the drawing-room my lady and Mr. Logger were deep in a +report of the emigration commission. Bessie and Dora were sitting on the +steps into the rose-garden watching the moon rise over the distant sea. +Dora was bidden to come in out of the dew and give the gentlemen a cup +of tea; Bessie was not bidden to do anything: she was apparently in +disgrace. Dora obeyed like a little scared rabbit. Harry Musgrave stood +a minute pensive, then took possession of a fine, quilted red silk +<i>duvet</i> from the couch, and folded it round Bessie's shoulders with the +remark that her dress was but thin. Mr. Cecil Burleigh witnessed with +secret trepidation the simple, affectionate thoughtfulness with which +the act was done and the beautiful look of kindness with which it was +acknowledged. Bessie's innocent face was a mirror for her heart. If this +fine gentleman was any longer deceived on his own account, he was one of +the blind who are blind because they will not see.</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer was observant too, and she now left her blue-book, and +said, "Mr. Musgrave, will you not have tea?"</p> + +<p>Harry came forward and accepted a cup, and was kept standing in the +middle of the room for the next half hour, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>extemporizing views and +opinions upon subjects on which he had none, until a glance of my lady's +eye towards the clock on the chimney-piece gave him notice of the hours +observed in great society. A few minutes after he took his leave, +without having found the opportunity of speaking to Bessie again, except +to say "Good-night."</p> + +<p>As Harry Musgrave left the room my lady rang the bell, and when the +servant answered it she turned to Bessie and said in her iced voice, +"Perhaps you would like to send for a shawl?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I will not go out again," said Bessie mildly, and the +servant vanished.</p> + +<p>Mr. Logger, who had really much amiability, here offered a remark: "A +very fine young man, that Mr. Musgrave—great power of countenance. +Wherever I meet with it now I say, Let us cherish talent, for it will +soon be the only real distinction where everybody is rich."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh made an inarticulate murmur, which might signify +acquiescence or the reverse.</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer said, "Young ladies, I think it is time you were going up +stairs." And with dutiful alacrity the young ladies went.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," whispered Dora to Bessie with a kiss as they separated. +"If you take any notice of Aunt Olympia's tempers, you will not have a +moment's peace: I never do. All will be right again in the morning." +Bessie had her doubts of that, but she tried to feel hopeful; and she +was not without her consolation, whether or no.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h3> + +<h3><i>ANOTHER RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR.</i></h3> + +<p>Half-past nine was the breakfast-hour at Fairfield, and Bessie Fairfax +said she would prepare for her ride before going down.</p> + +<p>"Will you breakfast in your riding-habit, miss?—her ladyship is very +particular," said Mrs. Betts in a tone implying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>that her ladyship might +consider it a liberty. Bessie said Yes, she must not keep Mr. Carnegie +waiting when he came.</p> + +<p>So she went down stairs in her habit and a crimson neck-tie, with her +hair compactly rolled up, and looking exceedingly well. Lady Latimer +justified Dora's predictions: she kissed Bessie as if she had never been +affronted. Bessie accepted the caress, and was thankful. It was no part +of her pleasure to vex my lady.</p> + +<p>They had not left the breakfast-table when the servant announced that +Mr. Carnegie had arrived. "We will go out and see you mount," said Lady +Latimer, and left her unfinished meal, Mr. Cecil Burleigh attending her. +Dora would have gone too, but as Mr. Logger made no sign of moving, my +lady intimated that she must remain. Lady Latimer had inquiries to make +of the doctor respecting several sick poor persons, her pensioners, and +while they are talking Mr. Cecil Burleigh gave Bessie a hand up into her +saddle, and remarked that Miss Hoyden was in high condition and very +fresh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can hold her. She has a good mouth and perfect temper; she never +ran away from me but once," said Bessie, caressing her old favorite with +voice and hand.</p> + +<p>"And what happened on that occasion?" said Mr. Cecil Burleigh.</p> + +<p>"She had her fling, and nothing happened. It was along the road that +skirts the Brook pastures, and at the sharp turn Mr. Harry Musgrave saw +her coming—head down, the bit in her teeth—and threw open the gate, +and we dashed into the clover. As I did not lose my nerve or tumble off, +I am never afraid now. I love a good gallop."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cecil Burleigh asked no more questions. If it be true that out of +the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, Brook and Mr. Harry +Musgrave must have been much in Miss Fairfax's thoughts; this was now +the third time that she had found occasion to mention them since coming +to breakfast.</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer turned in-doors again with a preoccupied air. Bessie had +looked behind her as she rode down the avenue, as if she were bidding +them good-bye. Mr. Cecil Burleigh was silent too. He had come to +Fairfield with certain lively hopes and expectations, for which my lady +was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>mainly responsible, and already he was experiencing sensations of +blankness worse to bear than disappointment. Others might be perplexed +as to Miss Fairfax's sentiments, but to him they were clear as the +day—friendly, but nothing more. She was now where she would be, was +exuberantly contented, and could not hide how slight a tie upon her had +been established by a year amongst her kindred in Woldshire.</p> + +<p>"This is like old times, Bessie," said the doctor as the Fairfield gate +closed behind them.</p> + +<p>Bessie laughed and tossed her head like a creature escaped. "Yes, I am +so happy!" she answered.</p> + +<p>The ride was just one of the doctor's regular rounds. He had to call at +Brook, where a servant was ill, and they went by the high-road to the +manor. Harry Musgrave was not at home. He had gone out for a day's +ranging, and was pensively pondering his way through the bosky recesses +of the Forest, under the unbroken silence of the tall pines, to the +seashore and the old haunts of the almost extinct race of smugglers. The +first person they met after leaving the manor was little Christie with a +pale radiant face, having just come on a perfect theme for a picture—a +still woodland pool reflecting high broken banks and flags and rushes, +with slender birchen trees hanging over, and a cluster of low +reed-thatched huts, very uncomfortable to live in, but gloriously mossed +and weather-stained to paint.</p> + +<p>"Don't linger here too late—it is an unwholesome spot," said Mr. +Carnegie, warning him as he rode on. Little Christie set up his white +umbrella in the sun, and kings might have envied him.</p> + +<p>"My mother is better, but call and see her," he cried after the doctor; +this amendment was one cause of the artist's blitheness.</p> + +<p>"Of course, she is better—she has had nothing for a week to make her +bad," said Mr. Carnegie; but when he reached the wheelwright's and saw +Mrs. Christie, with a handkerchief tied over her cap, gently pacing the +narrow garden-walks, he assumed an air of excessive astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Carnegie, sir, I'm up and out," she announced in a tone of no +thanks to anybody. "I felt a sing'lar wish to taste the air, and my boy +says, 'Go out, mother; it will do <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>you more good than anything.' I could +enjoy a ride in a chaise, but folks that make debts can afford to behave +very handsome to themselves in a many things that them that pays ready +money has to be mean enough to do without. Jones's wife has her rides, +but if her husband would pay for the repair of the spring-cart that was +mended fourteen months ago come Martinmas, there'd be more sense in +that."</p> + +<p>"Don't matter, my good soul! Walking is better than riding any fine day, +if you have got the strength," said the doctor briskly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; there's that consolation for them that is not rich and loves +to pay their way. I hope to walk to church next Sunday, please the Lord. +And if a word could be given to Mr. Wiley not to play so on the +feelings, it would be a mercy. He do make such awful faces, and allude +to sudden death and accidents and the like, as is enough to give an +ailing person a turn. I said to Mrs. Bunny, 'Mary,' I said, 'don't you +go to hear him; leastways, sit by the door if you must, and don't stop +for the sermon: it might make that impression it would do the babe a +mischief.'"</p> + +<p>"Go to chapel; it is nearer. And take Mrs. Bunny with you," said Mr. +Carnegie.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. Mrs. Wiley has been very kind in calling and taking notice +since I have been laid up, and one good turn deserves another. I shall +attend church in future, though the doctrine's so shocking that if folks +pondered it the lunatic asylums wouldn't hold 'em all. I'll never +believe as the Lord meant us to be threatened with judgment to come, and +hell, and all that, till one's afraid to lie down in one's bed. He'd not +have let there be an end of us if we didn't get so mortal tired o' +living."</p> + +<p>"Living is a weariness that men and women bear with unanimous patience, +Mrs. Christie—aches and pains included."</p> + +<p>"So it may be, sir. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. A week ago I +could not have thought the pleasure it would be to-day to see the sun, +and the pretty things in flower, and my boy going out with his +color-box. And not as much physic have you given me, Mr. Carnegie, as +would lie on a penny-piece."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>Bessie Fairfax laughed as they rode on, and said, "Nobody changes. I +should be tempted to give Mrs. Christie something horribly nasty for her +ingratitude."</p> + +<p>"Nobody changes," echoed the doctor. "She will be at her drugs again +before the month is out."</p> + +<p>A little beyond the wheelwright's, Mr. Carnegie pulled up at a spot by +the wayside where an itinerant tinker sat in the shade with his brazier +hot, doing a good stroke of work on the village kettles and pots: "Eh, +Gampling, here you are again! They bade me at home look out for you and +tell you to call. There is a whole regiment of cripples to mend."</p> + +<p>"Then let 'em march to Hampton, sir—they'll get back some time this +side o' Christmas," said the tinker, with a surly cunning glance out of +the corner of his eye. "Your women's so mighty hard to please that I'm +not meaning to call again; I prefers to work where I gives +satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"I did hear something of a pan new bottomed to mend a hole in its side; +but what is that amongst friends? Mistakes will occur in the +best-regulated businesses."</p> + +<p>"You're likely to know, sir—there's a sight o' folks dropping off quite +unaccountable else. I'm not dependent on one nor another, and what I +says I stands to: I'll never call at Dr. Carnegie's back door again +while that Irish lass is about his kitchen; she's give me the rough side +of her tongue once, but she won't do it no more."</p> + +<p>"Then good-day to you, Gampling; I can't part with the Irish lass at +your price."</p> + +<p>A sturdy laborer came along the road eating a hunch of bread and cheese. +Mr. Carnegie asked him how his wife did. The answer was crabbed: "She's +never naught to boast on, and she's allus worse after a spiritchus +visit: parson's paying her one now. Can you tell me, Mr. Carnegie, sir, +why parson chooses folk's dinner-time to drop in an' badger 'em about +church? Old parson never did." He did not stay to have his puzzle +elucidated, but trudged heavily on.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wiley does not seem very popular yet," observed Bessie.</p> + +<p>"He is more so than he was. But his wife, who helps the poor liberally +in the winter, is of twice the use in the parish that he is, with his +inopportune 'spiritchus visits.' I have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>remonstrated with him about +going to the cottages between twelve and one, when dinner is being eaten +and the men want a bit of rest, but he professes that it is the only +time to catch them in-doors. I suppose Molton won't bear it, and takes +up his food and walks out. Yet Beechhurst might have a worse pastor than +poor Wiley. He is a man I pity—a martyr to dyspepsia and a gloomy +imagination. But I will not deny that he often raises my choler still." +The doctor was on the verge of having it raised now.</p> + +<p>At the last bend of the road to the village, and nearly opposite the +forge, was a small cabin of one room, the abode of the respectable Mrs. +Wallop, the mainstay of Beechhurst as a nurse in last illnesses and +dangerous cases—a woman of heart and courage, though perhaps of too +imaginative a style of conversation. Although it was but a work-day, she +was sitting at her own door in her Sunday black gown and bonnet, and, +like Niobe, all tears. Mr. Carnegie pulled up in sheer amazement at the +deplorable spectacle his valued right hand was making of herself in +public, and, as if she had been on the watch for him, up she rose from +her stool and came forward to answer his unspoken questions.</p> + +<p>"Ay, Mr. Carnegie, sir, you may well ask what I am doing at home all day +idle," said she. "It is a Judas I feel, and if I don't get it off my +mind it will be too much for me: I can't bear it, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then out with it, Mrs. Wallop," said the imperative doctor. "It is +nothing very private, or you would not advertise it by crying at the +corner of the street."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, but it shames me to tell it, that it do, though you're one o' +them that well knows what flesh and blood comes to when the temptation's +strong. I've took money, Mr. Carnegie, wage for a month, to go nowheres +else but to the rectory; and nobody ill there, only a' might happen. It +never occurred to me the cruel sin I'd done till Robb came along, +begging and praying of me to go to them forlorn poor creturs at +Marsh-End. For it is the fever, sir. Mr. Wiley got wind of it, and sent +Robb over to make sure."</p> + +<p>"Lost in misery they are. Fling away your dirty hire, and be off to +Marsh-End, Mrs. Wallop. Crying and denying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>your conscience will +disagree very badly with your inside," said Mr. Carnegie, angry contempt +in his voice.</p> + +<p>"I will sir, and be glad to. It ain't Christian—no, nor human natur—to +sit with hands folded when there is sick folk wanting help. Poor Judas!" +she went on in soliloquy as the doctor trotted off. "I reckon his +feelings changed above a bit between looking at the thirty pieces of +silver and wishing he had 'un, and finding how heavy they was on his +soul afore he was drove to get rid of 'em, and went out and hanged +himself. I won't do that, anyhow, while I've a good charicter to fall +back on, but I'll return Mrs. Wiley her money, and take the consequences +if she sets it about as I'm not a woman of my word."</p> + +<p>A few minutes more brought Mr. Carnegie home with Bessie Fairfax to his +own door. Hovering about on the watch for the doctor's return was Mr. +Wiley. Though there was no great love lost between them, the rector was +imbued with the local faith in the doctor's skill, and wanted to consult +him.</p> + +<p>"You have heard that the fever has broken out again?" he said with +visible trepidation.</p> + +<p>"I have no case of fever myself. I hear that Robb has."</p> + +<p>"Yes—two in one house. Now, what precautions do you recommend against +infection?"</p> + +<p>"For nervous persons the best precaution is to keep out of the way of +infection."</p> + +<p>"You would recommend me to keep away from Marsh-End, then? Moxon is +nearer, though it is in my parish."</p> + +<p>"I never recommend a man to dodge his duty. Mrs. Wallop will be of most +use at present; she is just starting."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wallop? My wife has engaged her and paid her for a month in the +event of any trouble coming amongst ourselves. You must surely be +mistaken, Mr. Carnegie?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wiley was mistaken. She did not know her woman. Good-morning to +you, sir."</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>CHAPTER XLI.</h3> + +<h3><i>FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES.</i></h3> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie from the dining-room window witnessed the colloquy between +the rector and her husband, and came out into the porch to receive her +dear Bessie. "They will not expect you at Fairfield until they see you; +so come in, love," said she, and Bessie gladly obeyed.</p> + +<p>The doctor's house was all the quieter for the absence of the elder boys +at Hampton. The other children were playing in the orchard after school. +"It is a great convenience to have a school opened here where boys and +girls are both taught from four up to ten, and very nicely taught," said +the mother. "It gives me a little leisure. Even Totty goes, and likes +it, bless her!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie was not many minutes in-doors. He ate a crust standing, and +then went away again to answer a summons that had come since he went out +in the morning.</p> + +<p>"It will be a good opportunity, Bessie, to call on Miss Buff and Miss +Wort, and to say a word in passing to the Semples and Mittens; they are +always polite in asking after you," Mrs. Carnegie mentioned at the +children's dinner. But Miss Buff, having heard that Miss Fairfax was at +the doctor's house, forestalled these good intentions by arriving there +herself. She was ushered into the drawing-room, and Bessie joined her, +and was embraced and rejoiced over exuberantly.</p> + +<p>"You dear little thing! I do like you in your habit," cried she. "Turn +round—it fits beautifully. So you have been having a ride with the +doctor, and seeing everybody, I suppose? Mrs. Wiley wonders when you +will call."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, Bessie dear, you must not neglect Mrs. Wiley," said Mrs. +Carnegie.</p> + +<p>"It will do some day with Lady Latimer—she has constant business at the +rectory," Bessie said. She did not wish to waste this precious afternoon +in duty-visits to people she did not care for.</p> + +<p>"Well, I was to have written to you, and I never did," recommenced Miss +Buff.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>"Out of sight, out of mind: don't apologize!"</p> + +<p>But Miss Buff would explain and extenuate her broken promise: "The fact +is, my hands are almost too full: what with the school and the +committee, the organ and church, the missionary club and my district, I +am a regular lay-curate. Then there is Mr. Duffer's early service, eight +o'clock; and Fridays and Wednesdays and all the saints' days, and +decorating for the great festivals—perhaps a little too much of that, +but on Whitsunday the chancel was lovely, was it not, Mrs. Carnegie?" +Mrs. Carnegie nodded her acquiescence. "Then I have a green-house at +last, and that gives me something to do. I should like to show you my +green-house, Bessie. But you must be used to such magnificent things now +that perhaps you will not care for my small place."</p> + +<p>"I shall care as much as ever. I prefer small things to great yet."</p> + +<p>"And my fowl-house—you shall see that—and my pigeons. You used to be +so fond of live creatures, Bessie."</p> + +<p>"By the by, Miss Buff, have you discovered yet the depredator of your +poultry-yard?" Mrs. Carnegie asked.</p> + +<p>"No, but I have put a stop to his depredations. I strongly suspect that +pet subject of Miss Wort's—that hulking, idle son of Widow Burt. I am +sorry for <i>her</i>, but <i>he</i> is no good. You know I wrote to the inspector +of police at Hampton. Did I not tell you? No! Well, but I did, and said +if he would send an extra man over to stay the night in the house and +watch who stole my pigeons, he should have coffee and hot buttered +toast; and I dare say Eppie would not have objected to sit up with him +till twelve. However, the inspector didn't—he did not consider it +necessary—but the ordinary police probably watched, for I have not been +robbed since. And that is a comfort; I hate to sleep with one eye open. +You are laughing, Bessie; you would not laugh if you had lost seven +pigeons ready to go into a pie, and all in the space of ten days. I am +sure that horrid Burt stole 'em."</p> + +<p>Bessie still laughed: "Is your affection so material? Do you love your +pigeons so dearly that you eat them up?" said she.</p> + +<p>"What else should I keep them for? I should be overrun with pigeons but +for putting them in pies; they make the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>garden very untidy as it is. I +have given up keeping ducks, but I have a tame gull for the slugs. Who +is this at the gate? Oh! Miss Wort with her inexhaustible physic-bottle. +Everybody seems to have heard that you are here, Bessie."</p> + +<p>Miss Wort came in breathless, and paused, and greeted Bessie in a way +that showed her wits were otherwise engaged. "It is the income-tax," she +explained parenthetically, with an appealing look round at the company. +"I have been so put out this morning; I never had my word doubted +before. Jimpson is the collector this year—"</p> + +<p>"Jimpson!" broke out Miss Buff impetuously. "I should like to know who +they will appoint next to pry into our private affairs? As long as old +Dobbs collected all the rates and taxes they were just tolerable, but +since they have begun to appoint new men every year my patience is +exhausted. Talk of giving us votes at elections: I would rather vote at +twenty elections than have Tom, Dick, and Harry licensed to inquire into +my money-matters. Since Dobbs was removed we have had for assessors of +income-tax both the butchers, the baker, the brewer, the miller, the +little tailor, the milk-man; and now Jimpson at the toy-shop, of all +good people! There will soon be nobody left but the sweep."</p> + +<p>"The sweep is a very civil man, but Jimpson is impertinent. I told him +the sum was not correct, and he answered me: 'The government of the +country must have money to carry on; I have nothing to do with the sum +except to collect it. If you don't like it, ma'am, you've got to appeal +and go before the commissioners.' He may puzzle me with his figures, but +he will never convince me I have the income, for I have not. And he said +if I supposed he was fond of the job I was mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Can Mr. Carnegie help you, Miss Wort? Men manage these things so much +more easily than we do," said Mrs. Carnegie kindly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I paid the demand as the least trouble and to have done +with it."</p> + +<p>"Of course; I would pay half I am possessed of rather rather than go +before the commissioners," said Miss Buff. "Old Phipps is one of them; +and here he is. Come to see you, Bessie; you are having quite a levee. I +shall be off <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>now." Miss Buff rose, and Miss Wort with her, but before +they went there were some rallying speeches to be exchanged between Miss +Buff and the quaint old bachelor. They were the most friendly of +antagonists, and their animosity was not skin-deep. "Have you seen Lady +Latimer since the last school committee, Mr. Phipps?" asked Miss Buff, +in mischievous allusion to their latest difference of opinion.</p> + +<p>"No. I always keep as far as possible out of her ladyship's way."</p> + +<p>"If you had her spirit of charity you would not avow it."</p> + +<p>"You take the name of charity in vain. 'It is the beginning, the excuse, +and the pretext for a thousand usurpations.' Poverty has a new terror +now-a-days in the officiousness of women with nothing to do but play at +charity."</p> + +<p>Miss Wort shook her head and shut her eyes, as if to stave off the shock +of this profanity. Miss Buff only laughed the more merrily, and declared +that Mr. Phipps himself had as much to answer for as anybody in +Beechhurst, if charity was a sin.</p> + +<p>"I can charge myself with very few acts of charity," said he grimly. "I +am not out of bonds to bare justice."</p> + +<p>Mr. Phipps was in his sarcastic vein, and shot many a look askance at +Cinderella in the sofa corner, with her plumed velvet hat lying on a +chair beside her. She had been transformed into a most beautiful +princess, there was no denying that. He had heard a confidential whisper +respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and had seen that gentleman—a very +handsome personage to play the part of prince in the story. Mr. Phipps +had curiosity, discernment, and a great shrewdness. Bessie had a happy +face, and was enjoying her day in her old home; but she would never be +Cinderella in the nursery any more—never the little sunburnt gypsy who +delighted to wander in the Forest with the boys, and was nowhere so well +pleased as when she might run wild. He told her so; he wanted to prove +her temper since her exaltation.</p> + +<p>"I shall never be only twelve years old again, and that's true," said +Bessie, with a sportive defiance exceedingly like her former self. "But +I may travel—who knows how far and wide?—and come home browner than +any berry. Grand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>papa was a traveller once; so was my uncle Laurence in +pursuit of antiquities; and my poor uncle Frederick—you know he was +lost in the Baltic? The gypsy wildness is in the blood, but I shall +always come back to the Forest to rest."</p> + +<p>"She will keep up that delusion in her own mind to the last," said Mr. +Phipps. Then after an instant's pause, as if purposely to mark the +sequence of his thoughts, he asked, "Is that gentleman who is staying at +Fairfield with you now, Mr. Cecil Burleigh, a Woldshire man or South +country?"</p> + +<p>"Woldshire," said Bessie curtly; and the color mounted to her face at +the boldness of her old friend's insinuation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Phipps admired her anger, and went on with great coolness: "He has +some reputation—member for Norminster, I think you said? The Fairfaxes +used to be great in that part of the county fifty years ago. And I +suppose, Miss Fairfax, you can talk French now and play on the piano?"</p> + +<p>Bessie felt that he was very impertinent, but she preserved her +good-humor, and replied laughing, "Yes, Mr. Phipps, I can do a little of +both, like other young ladies." Mr. Carnegie had now come in.</p> + +<p>"The old piano is sadly out of tune, but perhaps, Bessie dear, you would +give us a song before you go," suggested her mother.</p> + +<p>Bessie gracefully complied, but nobody thought much of her little French +canzonette. "It is but a tiny chirp, Bessie; we have better songs than +that at home—eh, mother?" said the doctor, and that was all the +compliment she got on her performance. Mr. Phipps was amused by her +disconcerted air; already she was beyond the circle where plain speaking +is the rule and false politeness the exception. She knew that her father +must be right, and registered a silent vow to sing no more unless in +private.</p> + +<p>Just at this crisis a carriage drove up and stopped at the gate. "It is +the Fairfield carriage come to carry you off, Bessie," said her mother. +Lady Latimer looked out and spoke to the footman, who touched his hat +and ran to the porch with his message, "Would Miss Fairfax make +haste?—her ladyship was in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"I must go," said Bessie, and took her hat. Mr. Phipps sighed like an +echo, and everybody laughed. "Good-bye, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>but you will see me very soon +again," she cried from the gate, and then she got into the carriage.</p> + +<p>"To Admiral Parking's," said Lady Latimer, and they drove off on a round +of visits, returning to Fairfield only in time to dress for dinner.</p> + +<p>Just at that hour Harry Musgrave was coming back from his ramble in the +red light of a gorgeous sunset, to be met by his mother with the news +that Bessie Fairfax had called at the manor in the course of a ride with +the doctor in the morning, and what a pity it was that he was out of the +way! for he might have had a ride with them if he had not set off quite +so early on his walk. Harry regretted too much what he had missed to +have much to say about it; it was very unlucky. Bessie at Fairfield, he +clearly discerned, was not at home for him, and Lady Latimer was not his +friend. He had not heard any secrets respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh, but +a suspicion obscured his fancy since last night, and his mother's +tidings threw him into a mood of dejection that made him as pale as a +fond lover whom his lady has rebuffed.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h3> + +<h3><i>HOW FRIENDS MAY FALL OUT.</i>.</h3> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Bernard and Mr. Wiley were added to the dinner-party at +Fairfield that evening, and Lady Latimer gave Miss Fairfax a quiet +reminder that she might have to be on her guard, for the rector was as +deficient in tact as ever. And so he proved. He first announced that the +fever had broken out again at Littlemire and Marsh-End, after the +shortest lull he recollected, thus taking away Mr. Logger's present +appetite, and causing him to flee from the Forest the first thing in the +morning. Then he condoled with Mrs. Bernard on a mishap to her child +that other people avoided speaking of, for the consequences were likely +to be very serious, and she had not yet been made fully aware of them. +There was a peculiar, low, lugubrious note in his voice which caused it +to be audible through the room, and Bessie, who sat <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>opposite to him, +between Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Mr. Logger, devoted all her conversation +to them to avoid that of the rector. But he had taken note of her at the +moment of his entrance, and though the opportunity of remark had not +been afforded him, he soon made it, beginning with inquiries after her +grandfather. Then he reverted to Mr. Fairfax's visit to Beechhurst four +years ago, and spoke in a congratulatory, patronizing manner that was +peculiarly annoying to Bessie: "There is a difference between now and +then—eh, Bessie? Mrs. Wiley and I have often smiled at one naïve little +speech of yours—about a nest-egg that was saving up for a certain event +that young ladies look forward to. It must be considerably grown by now, +that nest-egg. You remember, I see."</p> + +<p>Anybody might see that Bessie remembered; not her face only, but her +neck, her very arms, burned.</p> + +<p>"Secrets are not to be told out of the confessional," said Mr. Bernard. +"Miss Fairfax, you blush unseen by me."</p> + +<p>There was a general low ripple of laughter, and everybody began to talk +at once, to cover the young lady's palpable confusion. Afterward, Lady +Latimer, who had been amused, begged to know what that mysterious +nest-egg might be. Bessie hesitated. "Tell us, <i>do</i> tell us," urged Dora +and Mrs. Bernard; so Bessie told them. She had to mention the schemes +for sending her to the Hampton Training School and Madame Michaud's +millinery shop by way of making her story clear, and then Lady Latimer +rather regretted that curiosity had prevailed, and manifested her regret +by saying that Mr. Wiley was one of the most awkward and unsafe guests +she ever invited to her table. "I should have asked him to meet Mr. +Harry Musgrave last night, but he would have been certain to make some +remark or inquiry that would have hurt the young man's feelings or put +him out of countenance."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Bessie with a beautiful blushing light in her face, "Harry +is above that. He has made his own place, and holds it with perfect ease +and simplicity. I see no gentleman who is his better."</p> + +<p>"You were always his advocate," Lady Latimer said with a sudden +accession of coldness. "Oxford has done everything for him. Dora, close +that window; Margaret, don't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>stand in a draught. Mr. Harry Musgrave is +a very plain young man."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Olympia, no," remonstrated Mrs. Bernard, who had a suspicion of +Miss Fairfax's tenderness in that quarter, and for kind sympathy would +not have her ruffled.</p> + +<p>But Bessie was quite equal to the occasion. "His plainness is lost in +what Mr. Logger calls his power of countenance," said she. "And I'm sure +he has a fine eye, and the sweetest smile I know."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer's visage was a study of lofty disapproval: "Has he but one +eye?—I thought he had two. When young ladies begin to talk of young +gentlemen's fine eyes and sweet smiles, we begin to reflect. But they +commonly keep such sentiments to themselves."</p> + +<p>Dora and Bessie glanced at one another, and had the audacity to laugh. +Then Mrs. Bernard laughed and shook her head. My lady colored; she felt +herself in a minority, and, though she did not positively laugh, her +lips parted and her air of severity melted away. Bessie had cast off all +fear of her with her old belief in her perfection. She loved her, but +she knew now that she would never submit to her guidance. Lady Latimer +glanced in the girl's brave, bright face, and said meaningly, "The +nest-egg will not have been saving up unnecessarily if you condescend to +such a folly as <i>that</i>." And Bessie felt that my lady had got the last +word for the present.</p> + +<p>She looked guilty yet indignant at this open reference to what was no +more than an unspoken vision. She had a thousand shy silent thoughts in +her heart, but it was not for any one to drag them into the light. Lady +Latimer understood that she had said too much, but she would not +retract, and in this way their contention began. They were henceforward +visibly in opposition. Mr. Harry Musgrave called the next morning at +Fairfield and asked for Miss Fairfax. He was not admitted; he was told +that she was not at home.</p> + +<p>"But I was at home. Perhaps he is going back to London. I should have +liked to see him," said Bessie when she heard.</p> + +<p>"He came at eleven o'clock: who comes at eleven o'clock? Of course +Roberts said 'Not at home,'" replied my lady.</p> + +<p>Bessie knew that Roberts would not have said "Not at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>home" unless he +had received orders to that effect. And, in fact, his orders were to say +"Not at home" to Mr. Harry Musgrave at any and every hour. Lady Latimer +had pledged herself to secure the success of Mr. Cecil Burleigh. She +felt that Bessie was strong in her frank defiance, but if my lady could +do no more for the discouraged suitor, she could at least keep his +favored rival at a distance. And this she did without a twinge of +remorse. Bessie had a beautiful temper when she was pleased, but her +whole soul rebelled against persecution, and she considered it acute +persecution to be taken out for formal drives and calls in custody of my +lady and Mr. Cecil Burleigh, when her mother was probably mending the +boys' socks, and longing for an hour or two of her company at +Beechhurst, and Harry Musgrave was looking in every afternoon at the +doctor's to see if, by good luck, she had gone over. Bessie was made +aware of this last circumstance, and she reckoned it up with a daily +accumulating sense of injury against my lady and her client. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh found out before long that he was losing rather than gaining in +her esteem. Miss Fairfax became not only stiff and cold, but perverse, +and Lady Latimer began to feel that it was foolishly done to bring her +to Fairfield. She had been put in the way of the very danger that was to +be averted. Mr. Harry Musgrave showed to no disadvantage in any company; +Miss Fairfax had not the classic taste; Lady Angleby's tactics were a +signal failure; her nephew it was who suffered diminution in the ordeal +she had prescribed for his rival; and the sooner, therefore, that Miss +Fairfax, "a most determined young lady," was sent back to Woldshire, the +better for the family plans.</p> + +<p>"I shall not invite Elizabeth Fairfax to prolong her visit," Lady +Latimer said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, who in his own mind was sorry she +had made it. "I am afraid that her temper is masterful." My lady was +resolved to think that Bessie was behaving very ill, not reflecting that +a young lady pursued by a lover whom she does not love is allowed to +behave worse than under ordinary circumstances.</p> + +<p>Bessie would have liked to be asked to stay at Fairfield longer (which +was rather poor-spirited of her), for, though she did not go so much to +her old home or to Brook as she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>desired and had expected, it was +something to know that they were within reach. Her sense of happiness +was not very far from perfect—the slight bitterness infused into her +joy gave it a piquancy—and Lady Latimer presently had brought to her +notice symptoms so ominous that she began to wish for the day that would +relieve her from her charge.</p> + +<p>One morning Mr. Cecil Burleigh was pacing the garden without his hat, +his head bent down, and his arms clasped behind him as his custom was, +when Bessie, after regarding him with pensive abstraction for several +minutes, remarked to Dora in a quaint, melancholy voice: "Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's hyacinthine locks grow thin—he is almost bald." My lady +jumped up hastily to look, and declared it nonsense—it was only the sun +shining on his head. Dora added that he was growing round-shouldered +too.</p> + +<p>"Why not say humpbacked at once?" exclaimed Lady Latimer angrily. Both +the girls laughed: it was very naughty.</p> + +<p>"But he is not humpbacked, Aunt Olympia," said the literal Dora.</p> + +<p>My lady walked about in a fume, moved and removed books and papers, and +tried to restrain a violent impulse of displeasure. She took up the +review that contained Harry Musgrave's paper, and said with impatience, +"Dora, how often must I beg of you to put away the books that are done +with? Surely this is done with."</p> + +<p>"I have not finished reading Harry's article yet: please let me take +it," said Bessie, coming forward.</p> + +<p>"'Harry's article'? What do you mean?" demanded Lady Latimer with +austerity: "'Mr. Harry Musgrave' would sound more becoming."</p> + +<p>"I forgot to tell you: the paper you and Mr. Logger were discussing the +first evening I was here was written by Mr. Harry Musgrave," said Bessie +demurely, but not without pride.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed! The crudeness Mr. Logger remarked in it is accounted for, +then," said my lady, and Bessie's triumph was abated. Also my lady +carried off the review, and she saw it no more.</p> + +<p>"It is only Aunt Olympia's way," whispered Dora to com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>fort her. "It +will go off. She is very fond of you, but you must know you are +dreadfully provoking. I wonder how you dare?"</p> + +<p>"And is not <i>she</i> dreadfully provoking?" rejoined Bessie, and began to +laugh. "But I am too happy to be intimidated. She will forgive me—if +not to-day, then to-morrow, or if not to-morrow, then the day after; or +I can have patience longer. But I will <i>not</i> be ruled by her—<i>never</i>!"</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>BETWEEN THEMSELVES.</i></h3> + +<p>It was on this day, when Bessie Fairfax's happiness primed her with +courage to resist my lady's imperious will, that Harry Musgrave learnt +for a certainty he had a rival. The rector was his informant. Mr. Wiley +overtook Harry sauntering in the Forest, and asked him how he did, +adding that he regretted to hear from his mother that there was a doubt +of his being able to continue his law-studies in London, and reminding +him of his own unheeded warnings against his ambition to rise in the +world.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall pull through, I trust," replied the young man, betraying no +disquiet. "My mother is a little fanciful, as mothers often are. You +must not encourage her anxieties."</p> + +<p>"You look strong enough, but appearances are sometimes deceptive. Take +care of yourself—health is before everything. It was a pity you did not +win that fellowship: I don't know how you mean to live after you have +got your call to the bar. You clever young fellows who rise from the +ranks expect to carry the world before you, but it is a much harder +matter than you think. Your father cannot make you much of an +allowance?"</p> + +<p>Harry knew the rector's tactless way too well to be affronted now by any +remark he might make or any question he might ask. "My father has a +liberal mind," he said good-humoredly. "And a man hopes for briefs +sooner or later."</p> + +<p>"It is mostly later, unless he have singular ability or good +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>connexions. You must marry a solicitor's daughter," said the rector, +flourishing his stick. Harry said he would try to dispense with violent +expedients. They walked on a minute or two in silence, and then Mr. +Wiley said: "You have seen Miss Fairfax, of course?—she is on a visit +at Fairfield."</p> + +<p>"Yes. She has been at Brook," replied Harry with reticent coolness. "We +all thought her looking remarkably well."</p> + +<p>"Yes, beautiful—very much improved indeed. My wife was quite +astonished, but she has been living in the very best society. And have +you seen Mr. Cecil Burleigh?"</p> + +<p>Harry made answer that he had dined at Fairfield one evening, and had +met Mr. Cecil Burleigh there.</p> + +<p>"Miss Fairfax's friends must be glad she is going to marry so well—so +suitably in every point of view. It is an excellent match, and, I +understand from Lady Latimer, all but settled. She is delighted, for +they are both immense favorites with her."</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave was dumb. Yet he did not believe what he heard—he could +not believe it, remembering Bessie's kind, pretty looks. Why, her very +voice had another, softer tone when she spoke to him; his name was music +from her lips. The rector went on, explaining the fame and anticipated +future of Mr. Cecil Burleigh in a vaguely confidential manner, until +they came to a spot where two ways met, and Harry abruptly said, "I was +going to Littlemire to call on Mr. Moxon, and this is my road." He held +out his hand, and was moving off when Mr. Wiley's visage put on a solemn +shade of warning:</p> + +<p>"It will carry you through Marsh-End. I would avoid Marsh-End just now +if I were you—a nasty, dangerous place. The fever is never long absent. +I don't go there myself at present."</p> + +<p>But Harry said there was a chance, then, that he might meet with his old +tutor in the hamlet, and he started away, eager to be alone and to +escape from the rector's observation, for he knew that he was betraying +himself. He went swiftly along under the sultry shade in a confused +whirl of sensations. His confidence had suddenly failed him. He had +counted on Bessie Fairfax for his comrade since he was a boy; the idea +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>of her was woven into all his pleasant recollections of the past and +all his expectations in the future. Since that Sunday evening in the old +sitting-room at Brook her sweet, womanly figure had been the centre of +his thoughts, his reveries. He had imagined difficulties, obstacles, but +none with her. This real difficulty, this tangible obstacle, in the +shape of Mr. Cecil Burleigh, a suitor chosen by her family and supported +by Lady Latimer, gave him pause. He could not affect to despise Mr. +Cecil Burleigh, but he vowed a vow that he would not be cheated of his +dear little Bessie unless by her own consent. Was it possible that he +was deceived in her—that he and she mistook her old childish affection +for the passion that is strong as death? No—no, it could not be. If +there was truth in her eyes, in her voice, she loved him as dearly as he +loved her, though never a word of love had been spoken between them. The +young man wrought himself up into such a state of agitation and +excitement that he never reached Marsh-End nor saw Mr. Moxon at all that +day. He turned, and bent his steps by a circuitous path to a woodland +nook where he had left his friend Christie at work a couple of hours +ago.</p> + +<p>"Back again so soon? Then you did not find Moxon at home," said the +artist, scarcely lifting an eye from the canvas.</p> + +<p>Harry flung himself on the ground beside his friend and delivered his +mind of its new burden. Christie now condescended to look at him and to +say calmly, "It is always well to know what threatens us, but there is +no need to exaggerate facts. Mr. Cecil Burleigh is a rival you may be +proud to defeat; Miss Fairfax will please herself, and I think you are a +match for him. You have the start."</p> + +<p>"I know Bessie is fond of me, but she is a simple, warm-hearted girl, +and is fond of all of us," said Harry with a reflective air.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea you were so modest. Probably she has a slight preference +for <i>you</i>." Christie went on painting, and now and then a telling touch +accentuated his sentiments.</p> + +<p>Harry hearkened, and grew more composed. "I wish I had her own assurance +of it," said he.</p> + +<p>"You had better ask her," said Christie.</p> + +<p>After this they were silent for a considerable space, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>picture +made progress. Then Harry began again, summing up his disadvantages: "Is +it fair to ask her? Here am I, of no account as to family or fortune, +and under a cloud as to the future, if my mother and Carnegie are +justified in their warnings—and sometimes it comes over me that they +are—why, Christie, what have I to offer her? Nothing, nothing but my +presumptuous self."</p> + +<p>"Let her be judge: women have to put up with a little presumption in a +lover."</p> + +<p>"Would it not be great presumption? Consider her relations and friends, +her rank and its concomitants. I cannot tell how much she has learnt to +value them, how necessary they have become to her. Lady Latimer, who was +good to me until the other day, is shutting her doors against me now as +too contemptible."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. The despotic old lady shuts her doors against you because +she is afraid of you."</p> + +<p>"What have I to urge except that I love her?"</p> + +<p>"The best of pleas. Don't fear too much. Give her leave to love you by +avowing your love—that is what a girl waits for: if you let her go back +to Woldshire without an understanding between yourselves, she will think +you care for your own pride more than for her."</p> + +<p>"I wish she were little Bessie at Beechhurst again, and all her finery +blown to the winds. I have not seen her for five days."</p> + +<p>"That must be your own fault. You don't want an ambassador? If you do, +there's the post."</p> + +<p>Harry was silent again. He was chiefly raising objections for the +pleasure of hearing them contradicted; of course he was not aware of +half the objections that might have been cited against him as an +aspirant to the hand of Miss Fairfax. In the depth of his heart there +was a tenacious conviction that Bessie Fairfax loved him best in the +world—with a love that had grown with her growth and strengthened with +her strength, and would maintain itself independent of his failure or +success in life. But oh, that word <i>failure</i>! It touched him with a +dreadful chill. He turned pale at it, and resolutely averted his mind +from the idea.</p> + +<p>He left young Christie with as little ceremony as he had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>rejoined him, +and walked home to Brook, entering the garden from the wood. The first +sight that met him was Bessie Fairfax standing alone under the beeches. +At the moment he thought it was an illusion, for she was all in +bluish-gray amongst the shadows; but at the sound of the gate she turned +quickly and came forward to meet him.</p> + +<p>"I was just beginning to feel disappointed," said she impulsively. "Lady +Latimer brought me over to say good-bye, and we were told you had gone +to Littlemire. She is in the sitting-room with your mother. I came out +here."</p> + +<p>Harry's face flushed so warmly that he had no need to express his joy in +words. What a lucky event it was that he had met Mr. Wiley, and had been +turned back from his visit to his old tutor! He was fatigued with +excitement and his hurried walk, and he invited Bessie to sit with him +under the beeches where they used to sit watching the little stream as +it ran by at their feet. Bessie was nothing loath—she was thinking that +this was the last time they should meet for who could tell how long—and +she complied with all her old child-like submission to him, and a +certain sweet appealing womanly dignity, which, without daunting Harry +at all, compelled him to remember that she was not any longer a child.</p> + +<p>The young people were not visible from the sitting-room. Lady Latimer's +head was turned another way when Harry and Bessie met, but the instant +she missed her young charge she got up and looked out of the lattice. +The boles and sweeping branches of the great beeches hid the figures at +their feet, and Mrs. Musgrave, observing that dear Bessie was very fond +of the manor-garden, and had probably strolled into the wilderness, my +lady accepted the explanation and resumed her seat and her patience.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Harry did not waste his precious opportunity. He had this +advantage, that when he saw Bessie he saw only the fair face that he +worshipped, and thought nothing of her adventitious belongings, while in +her absence he saw her surrounded by them, and himself set at a vast +conventional distance. He said that the four years since she left +Beechhurst seemed but as one day, now they were together again in the +old familiar places, and she replied that she was glad he thought so, +for she thought so too. "I still call the Forest <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>home, though I do not +pine in exile. I return to it the day after to-morrow," she told him.</p> + +<p>"Good little philosophical Bessie!" cried Harry, and relapsed into his +normal state of masculine superiority.</p> + +<p>Then they talked of themselves, past, present, and future—now with +animation, now again with dropped and saddened voices. The afternoon sun +twinkled in the many-paned lattices of the old house in the background, +and the brook sang on as it had sung from immemorial days before a stone +of the house was built. Harry gazed rather mournfully at the ivied walls +during one of their sudden silences, and then he told Bessie that the +proprietor was ill, and the manor would have a new owner by and by.</p> + +<p>"I trust he will not want to turn out my father and mother and pull it +down, but he is an improving landlord, and has built some excellent ugly +farmsteads on his other property. I have a clinging to it, and the +doctor says it would be well for me had I been born and bred in almost +any other place."</p> + +<p>Bessie sighed, and said deprecatingly, "Harry, you look as strong as a +castle. If it was Mr. Christie they were always warning, I should not +wonder, but <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>"But <i>me</i>! Little Christie looks as though a good puff of wind might +blow him away, and he is as tough as a pin-wire. I stand like a tower, +and they tell me the foundations are sinking. It sounds like a fable to +frighten me."</p> + +<p>"Harry dear, it is not serious; don't believe it. Everybody has to take +a little care. You must give up London and hard study if they try you. +We will all help you to bear the disappointment: I know it would be +cruel, but if you must, you must! Leaning towers, I've heard, stand +hundreds of years, and serve their purpose as well as towers that stand +erect."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Bessie, cunning little comforter! Tell me which is the worse—a +life that is a failure or death?" said Harry, watching the gyrations of +a straw that the eddies of the rivulet were whirling by.</p> + +<p>"Oh, death, death—there is no remedy for death." Bessie shuddered. +There was repulsion in her face as well as awe.</p> + +<p>Harry felt surprised: this was his own feeling, but women, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>he thought, +had more natural resignation. Not so, however, his young comrade. She +loved life, and hoped to see good days. He reminded her that she had +lost both her parents early.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "but my other father and mother prevented me suffering +from their loss. I scarcely recollect it, I was such a happy child. It +would be different now if any of those, young like myself, that I have +grown up with and love very much, were to pass out of sight, and I had +to think that nowhere in the world could I find them any more."</p> + +<p>"It would touch you more personally. There was a young fellow drowned at +Oxford whom I knew: we were aghast for a day, but the next we were on +the river again. I recollect how bitterly you cried the morning your +father was buried; all the afternoon you refused to be comforted, even +by a sweet black puppy that I had brought over for the purpose, but in +the evening you took to it and carried it about in your pinafore. Oh, +God and time are very good to us. We lose one love, another steps in to +fill the void, and soon we do not remember that ever there was a void."</p> + +<p>Bessie was gazing straight away into heaven, her eyes full of sunshiny +tears, thoughts of the black puppy struggling with more pathetic +thoughts. "We are very dismal, Harry," said she presently. "Is the moral +of it how easily we should be consoled for each other's loss? Would you +not pity me if I died? I should almost die of your death, I think."</p> + +<p>"And if I am to live and never do any good, never to be famous, Bessie? +If I come to you some day beaten and jaded—no honors and glories, as I +used to promise—"</p> + +<p>"Why, Harry, unless it were your mother no one would be kinder to you +than I would," she said with exquisite tenderness, turning to look in +his face, for he spoke in a strained, low voice as if it hurt him.</p> + +<p>He took her hands, she not refusing to yield them, and said, "It is my +belief that we are as fond of each other as ever we were, Bessie, and +that neither of us will ever care half so much for anybody else?"</p> + +<p>"It is my belief too, Harry." Bessie's eyes shone and her tongue +trembled, but how happy she was! And he bowed his head for several +minutes in silence.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>There was a rustling in the bushes behind them, a bird perhaps, but the +noise recalled them to the present world—that and a whisper from +Bessie, smiling again for pure content: "Harry dear, we must not make +fools of ourselves now; my lady might descend upon us at any moment."</p> + +<p>Harry sighed, and looked up with great content. "It is a compact, +Bessie," said he, holding out his right hand.</p> + +<p>"Trust me, Harry," said she, and laid hers softly in his open palm.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Musgrave's voice was heard from the sitting-room window: "Bessie! +Bessie dear! where are you?—Lady Latimer wishes to go. Make haste—come +in." A bit of Bessie's blue-gray dress had betrayed her whereabouts. And +lo! the two young people emerged from the shelter of the trees, and +quite at their leisure sauntered up the lawn, talking with a sweet gay +confidence, just as they used to talk when they were boy and girl, and +Bessie came to tea at Brook, and they were the best friends in the +world. Harry's mother guessed in a moment what had happened. Lady +Latimer caught one glance and loftily averted her observation.</p> + +<p>They had to go round to the hall-door, and they did not hurry +themselves. They took time to assure one another how deep was their +happiness, their mutual confidence—to promise a frequent exchange of +letters, and to fear that they would not meet again before Bessie left +Fairfield. Lady Latimer was seated in the carriage when they appeared in +sight. Bessie got in meekly, and was bidden to be quicker. She smiled at +Harry, who looked divinely glad, and as they drove off rapidly +recollected that she had not said good-bye to his mother.</p> + +<p>"Never mind—Harry will explain," she said aloud: evidently her thoughts +were astray.</p> + +<p>"Explain what? I am afraid there are many things that need explanation," +said my lady austerely, and not another word until they reached home. +But Bessie's heart was in perfect peace, and her countenance reflected +nothing but the sunshine.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>CHAPTER XLIV.</h3> + +<h3><i>A LONG, DULL DAY.</i></h3> + +<p>That evening Bessie Fairfax was charming, she was <i>so</i> happy. She was +good and gracious again to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and she was never +prettier. He basked in her content, without trying to understand +it—thought more than ever what a buoyant, sweet-tempered woman she +would be, to give a man rest and refreshment at home, whose active life +must be spent in the arid ways of the political world. Dora had her +conjectures, and whispered them, but Bessie made no revelation, gave no +confidences.</p> + +<p>It must be <i>ages</i> before her league with Harry Musgrave could be +concluded, and therefore let it be still, as it had been always, +suspected, but not confessed—unless she were over-urged by Harry's +rival and her northern kinsfolk and friends. Then she would declare her +mind, but not before. Lady Latimer asked no questions. Her woman's +discernment was not at fault, but she had her own opinion of youthful +constancy and early loves and early vows, and believed that when they +were not to be approved they were to be most judiciously ignored.</p> + +<p>The next day was so fully occupied with engagements made beforehand that +Bessie had no chance of going again to Beechhurst, but she did not make +a grief of it—she could not have made a grief of anything just then. On +the last morning, however, to her dear surprise, the doctor stopped at +the door for a parting word of her mother's love and his own, and their +hopes that she would soon be coming amongst them again; and when she +went away an hour later she went as joyous as she had come, though she +knew that a report of her untoward behavior had gone before her, and +that the probabilities were she would enter into an atmosphere of clouds +the moment she reached Abbotsmead.</p> + +<p>But it did not prove so. Lady Latimer had written cautiously and +kindly—had not been able to give any assurance of Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +success, but had a feeling that it must come to pass. Elizabeth was a +sweet girl, though she had the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>self-will of a child; in many points she +was more of a child than my lady had supposed—in her estimate of +individuals, and of their weight and position in the world, for +instance—but this was a fault that knowledge of the world would cure.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax was pleased to welcome his granddaughter home again, and +especially pleased to see no sadness in her return. The Forest was ever +so much nearer now—not out of her world at all. Bessie had travelled +that road once, and would travel it again. Every experience shortens +such roads, lessens such difficulties between true friends. Bessie's +acquaintances came to call upon her, and she talked of the pleasure it +had been to her to revisit the scenes of her childhood, of the few +changes that had happened there since she came away, and of the +hospitality of Lady Latimer.</p> + +<p>The lime trees were turning yellow and thin of leaf; there was a fire +all day in the octagon parlor. It was autumn in Woldshire, soon to be +winter. It seemed to Bessie on her return like resuming the dull routine +of a life that had gone on for a long while. Mrs. Stokes, as her nearest +and most neighborly neighbor, often ran across the park of an afternoon, +but Bessie's best delight was at post-time in the morning. Mr. Fairfax +never came down stairs to breakfast, and she had Harry Musgrave's +letters all to herself, undiscovered and undisturbed.</p> + +<p>The squire never regained his strength or his perfect moral control, and +the peculiar tempers of his previous life seemed to be exaggerated as +his natural force decayed. Mr. Oliver Smith was his most frequent and +welcome visitor. They talked together of events past and of friends long +since dead. Perhaps this was a little wearisome and painful now and then +to Mr. Oliver Smith, who retained his youthful sprightliness amidst more +serious sentiments. He would have had his old friend contemplate the +great future that was approaching, instead of the unalterable past.</p> + +<p>One day he said to Bessie, "I think your grandfather wanders in his mind +sometimes; I fear he is failing."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," was her reflective answer. "His thoughts often run on +his sister Dorothy and Lady Latimer: I hear him mutter to himself the +same words often, 'It was a lifelong mistake, Olympia.' But that is +true, is it not? He is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>as clear and collected as ever when he dictates +to me a letter on business; he makes use of me as his secretary."</p> + +<p>"Well, well! Let us hope, then, God may spare him to us for many years +to come," said Mr. Oliver Smith, with that conventional propriety of +speech which helps us through so many hard moments when feeling does not +dictate anything real to say.</p> + +<p>Bessie dwelt for some days after on that pious aspiration of her +grandfather's old friend, but the ache and tedium of life did not return +upon her. Her sense of duty and natural affection were very strong. She +told herself that if it were her lot to watch for many years beside this +dwindling flame, it was a lot of God's giving, not of her own seeking, +and therefore good. The letters that came to her from Beechhurst and +Caen breathed nothing but encouragement to love and patience, and Harry +Musgrave's letters were a perpetual fount of refreshment. What +delightful letters they were! He told, her whatever he thought would +interest or amuse her or make his life palpable to her. He sent her +books, he sent her proof-sheets to be read and returned: if Bessie had +not loved him so devotedly and all that belonged to him, she might have +thought his literature a tax on her leisure. It was a wonder to all who +knew her (without knowing her secret fund of joy) what a cheerful +countenance she wore through this dreary period of her youth. Within the +house she had no support but the old servants, and little change or +variety from without. Those kind old ladies, Miss Juliana and Miss +Charlotte Smith, were very good in coming to see her, and always +indulged her in a talk of Lady Latimer and Fairfield; Miss Burleigh +visited her occasionally for a day, but Lady Angleby kept out of the +shadow on principle—she could not bear to see it lengthening. She +enjoyed life very much, and would not be reminded of death if she could +help it. Her nephew spent Christmas at Norminster, and paid more than +one visit to Abbotsmead. Miss Fairfax was as glad as ever to see him. He +came like a breath of fresh air from the living outer world, and made no +pretensions to what he knew she had not to give. The engagement between +Miss Julia Gardiner and Mr. Brotherton had fallen through, for some +reason that was never fully explained, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>Miss Burleigh began to think +her dear brother would marry poor Julia after all.</p> + +<p>Another of Bessie's pleasures was a day in Minster Court. One evening +she brought home a photograph of the three boys, and the old squire put +on his spectacles to look at it. She had ceased to urge reconciliation, +but she still hoped for it earnestly; and it came in time, but not at +all as she expected. One day—it was in the early spring—she was called +to her grandfather's room, and there she found Mr. John Short sitting in +council and looking exceedingly discontented. The table was strewn with +parchments and papers, and she was invited to take a seat in front of +the confusion. Then an abrupt question was put to her: Would she prefer +to have settled upon her the Abbey Lodge, which Colonel Stokes now +occupied as a yearly tenant, or a certain house in the suburbs of +Norminster going out towards Brentwood?</p> + +<p>"In what event?" she asked, coloring confusedly.</p> + +<p>"In the event of my death or your own establishment in life," said her +grandfather. "Your uncle Laurence will bring his family here, and I do +not imagine that you will choose to be one with them long; you will +prefer a home of your own."</p> + +<p>The wave of color passed from Bessie's face. "Dear grandpapa, don't talk +of such remote events; it is time enough to think of changes and decide +when the time comes," said she.</p> + +<p>"That is no answer, Elizabeth. Prudent people make their arrangements in +anticipation of changes, and their will in anticipation of death. Speak +plainly: do you like the lodge as a residence, or the vicinity of +Norminster?"</p> + +<p>"Dear grandpapa, if you were no longer here I should go home to the +Forest," Bessie said, and grew very pale.</p> + +<p>The old squire neither moved nor spoke for several minutes. He stared +out of the window, then he glanced at the lawyer and said, "You hear, +Short? now you will be convinced. She has not taken root enough to care +to live here any longer. She will go back to the Forest; all this time +she has been in exile, and cut off from those whom alone she loves. Why +should I keep her waiting at Abbotsmead for a release that may be slow +to come? Go now, Elizabeth, go now, if to stay wearies you;" and he +waved her to the door imperatively.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>Bessie rose trembling and left the room, tears and indignation +struggling for the mastery. "Oh, grandpapa! why will you say such +things?" was all her remonstrance, but she felt that there are some +wrongs in this life very hard to bear.</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short sat mute for some time after the young lady's departure. +The squire gloomed sorrowfully: "From first to last my course is nothing +but disappointment."</p> + +<p>"I wish, sir, that you could be prevailed on to see Mr. Laurence?" +suggested the lawyer. "His wife is a very good little lady, and the boys +you might be proud of. Pray, sir, give yourself that chance of happiness +for your closing days."</p> + +<p>"I had other plans. There will be no marriage, Short: I understand +Elizabeth. In warning me that she will return to the Forest when I am +gone, she just tells me that my hopes of her and Burleigh are all +moonshine. Well, let Laurence come. Let him come and take possession +with his children; they can leave me my corner of the house in peace. I +shall not need it very long. And Elizabeth can go <i>home</i> when she +pleases."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fairfax's resentment was very bitter against Bessie, at first, for +the frank exposition she had made of her future intentions. She had +meant no unkindness, but simple honesty. He did not take it so, and when +her customary duty and service brought her next into his presence he +made her feel how deeply she had offended. He rejected her offer to read +to him, put aside her helping hand, and said he would have Jonquil to +assist him; she need not remain. He uttered no accusation against her +and no reproach; he gave her no opportunity of softening her abrupt +announcement; he just set her at a distance, as it were, and made +himself unapproachable. Bessie betook herself in haste to her white +parlor, to hide the blinding tears in her eyes and the mortification in +her heart. "And he wonders that so few love him!" she said to herself, +not without anger even in her pitiful yearning to be friends again.</p> + +<p>A week of alienation followed this scene, and Bessie was never more +miserable. Day by day she tried to resume her loving care of her +grandfather, and day by day she was coldly repulsed. Jonquil, Macky, +Mrs. Betts, all sympathized in silence; their young lady was less easy +to condole with now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>than when she was fresh from school. The old squire +was as wretched as he made his granddaughter. He had given permission +for his son to come to Abbotsmead, and he seemed in no haste to embrace +the permission. When he came at last, he brought little Justus with him, +but he had to say that it was only for a few hours. In fact, his wife +was extremely unwilling to abandon their happy, independent home in the +Minster Court, and he was equally unwilling to force her inclination. +Mr. Fairfax replied, "You know best," and gazed at his grandson, who, +from between his father's knees, gazed at him again without any advance +towards good-fellowship. A formal reconciliation ensued, but that was +all. For the kindness that springs out of a warm, affectionate nature +the old squire had to look to Elizabeth, and without any violent +transition they glided back into their former habits and relations. +Bessie was saddened a little by her late experiences, but she was not +quite new to the lesson that the world is a place of unsatisfied hopes +and defeated intentions.</p> + +<p>Mr. John Short was often to and fro between Abbotsmead and Norminster +during that summer, and an idea prevailed in the household that the +squire was altering his will again. His son Frederick had died +intestate, and the squire had taken possession of what he left. The poor +lady in seclusion at Caen died also about this time, and a large +addition was made to Mr. Fairfax's income—so large that his loss by the +Durham lawsuit was more than balanced. The lawyer looked far from +pleasant while transacting his client's business. It was true that Mr. +Frederick Fairfax had left no will, but he had expressed certain +distinct intentions, and these intentions, to the indignant astonishment +of many persons, his father would not carry out. Mr. Forbes talked to +him of the sacredness of his son's wishes, but the squire had a purpose +for the money, and was obstinate in his refusal to relinquish it. Some +people decided that thus he meant to enrich his granddaughter without +impoverishing Abbotsmead for his successor, but Mr. John Short's manner +to the young lady was tinctured with a respectful compassion that did +not augur well for her prospects.</p> + +<p>Bessie paid very little heed to the speculations of which she could not +fail to hear something. So long as her grand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>father was tolerably kind +to her she asked no more from the present, and she left the future to +take care of itself. But it cannot be averred that he was invariably +kind. There seemed to lurk in his mind a sense of injury, which he +visited upon her in sarcastic gibes and allusions to the Forest, +taunting her with impatience to have done with him and begone to her +dearer friends. Bessie resented this for a little while, but by and by +she ceased to be affected, and treated it as the pettishness of a sick +old man, never used to be considerate for others. He kept her very much +confined and gave her scant thanks for her care of him. If Mr. Cecil +Burleigh admired patience and forbearance in a woman, he had the +opportunity of studying a fair example of both in her. He pitied her +secretly, but she put on no martyr-airs. "It is nothing. Oh no, +grandpapa is not difficult—it is only his way. Most people are testy +when they are ill," she would plead, and she believed what she said. The +early sense of repulsion and disappointment once overcome, she was too +sensible to bewail the want of unselfish affection where it had never +existed before.</p> + +<p>The squire had certain habits of long standing—habits of coldness, +distance, reserve, and he never changed materially. He survived through +the ensuing autumn and winter, and finally sank during the +north-easterly weather of the following spring, just two years after the +death of his son Frederick. Jonquil and Macky, who had been all his life +about him, were his most acceptable attendants. He did not care to have +his son Laurence with him, and when the children came over it was not by +his invitation. Mr. Forbes visited him almost daily, and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh came down from London twice at his request. Bessie remitted no +act of tender thoughtfulness; and one day, shortly before the end, he +said to her, "You are a good girl, Elizabeth." She smiled and said, "Am +I, grandpapa?" but his persistent coldness had brought back her shy +reticence, and neither said any more. Perhaps there was compunction in +the old man's mind—the cast of his countenance was continually that of +regret—but there was no drawing near in heart or confidence ever again, +and the squire died in the isolation of feeling with which living he had +chosen to surround himself. The world, his friends, neighbors, and +servants said that he died in honor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>respected by all who knew him; but +for long and long after Bessie could never think of his death without +tears—not because he had died, but because so little sorrow followed +him.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h3> + +<h3><i>THE SQUIRE'S WILL.</i></h3> + +<p>Throughout his life Mr. Fairfax had guided his actions by a certain rule +of justice that satisfied himself. The same rule was evident in his last +will. His granddaughter had given him to understand that she should +return to the Forest and cast in her lot with the humble friends from +amongst whom he had taken her, and the provision he made for her was +consonant with that determination. He bequeathed to her a sum of five +thousand pounds—a sufficient portion, as he considered, for that rank +in life—and to Mr. Cecil Burleigh he bequeathed the handsome fortune +that it was intended she should bring him in marriage. He had the dower +without the bride, and though Lady Angleby and his sister quietly +intimated to astonished friends that they had good reason to hope Miss +Fairfax would ultimately be no loser by her grandfather's will, her +uncle Laurence was not the only person by many who judged her unkindly +and unfairly treated. But it was impossible to dispute the old squire's +ability to dispose of his property, or his right to dispose of it as he +pleased. He had been mainly instrumental in raising Mr. Cecil Burleigh +to the position he occupied, and there was a certain obligation incurred +to support him in it. If Mr. Fairfax had chosen to make a son of him, no +one had a right to complain. No one did complain; the expression of +opinion was extremely guarded.</p> + +<p>Bessie was informed of the terms of her grandfather's will in the first +shock of surprise; afterward her uncle Laurence reflected that it would +have been wise to keep them from her, but the deed was done. She +received the news without emotion: she blushed, put up her eyebrows, and +smiled as she said, "Then I am a poor young woman again." She saw at +once what was absurd, pathetic, vexatious in her descent from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>the +dignity of riches, but she was not angry. She never uttered a word of +blame or reproach against her grandfather, and when it was indignantly +recalled to her that Mr. Cecil Burleigh was put into possession of what +ought to have been hers, she answered, "There is no ought in the matter. +Grandpapa had a lively interest in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's career, for the +sake of the country as well as for his own sake, and if you ask me my +sentiments I must confess that I feel the money grandpapa has left him +is well bestowed. It would be a shame that such a man should be hampered +by mean cares and insufficient fortune."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you are satisfied that is enough," was the significant +rejoinder, and Lady Angleby's hopes had a wider echo.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Cecil Burleigh his old friend's bequest was a boon to be thankful +for, and he was profoundly thankful. It set him above troublesome +anxieties and lifted his private life into the sphere of comfort. But +his first visit to Abbotsmead and first meeting with Miss Fairfax after +it was communicated to him tried his courage not a little. The intimacy +that had been kept up, and even improved during Mr. Fairfax's decline, +had given him no grounds for hoping better success with Elizabeth as a +lover than before, and yet he was convinced that in leaving him this +fine fortune the squire had continued to indulge his expectations of +their ultimate union. That Elizabeth would be inclined towards him in +the slightest degree by the fact of his gaining the inheritance that she +had forfeited, he never for one moment dreamed; the contrary might be +possible, but not that. Amongst the many and important duties and +interests that engaged him now he had neither leisure nor desire for +sentimental philandering. He was a very busy man of the world, and +wished for the rest of a home. Insensibly his best thoughts reverted to +his dear Julia, never married, still his very good friend. He approved +the sweet rosy face of Elizabeth Fairfax, her bright spirit and loving, +unselfish disposition, but he found it impossible to flatter himself +that she would ever willingly become his wife. Lady Angleby insisted +that honor demanded a renewal of his offer, but Elizabeth never gave him +an opportunity; and there was an end of his uncertainties when she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>said +one day to his sister (after receiving an announcement of her own +approaching marriage to Mr. Forbes), "And there is nothing now to stand +between your brother and Miss Julia Gardiner. I am truly glad grandpapa +left him an independence, they have been so faithful to each other."</p> + +<p>Miss Burleigh looked up surprised, as if she thought Bessie must be +laughing at them. And Bessie was laughing. "Not quite constant perhaps, +but certainly faithful," she persisted. But Mr. Cecil Burleigh had +probably appreciated her blossoming youth more kindly than his dear +Julia had appreciated her autumnal widower. Bessie meant to convey that +neither had any right to complain of the other, and that was true. Miss +Burleigh carried Miss Fairfax's remarks to her brother, and after that +they were privately agreed that it would be poor Julia after all.</p> + +<p>Mr. Laurence Fairfax insisted that his niece should live at Abbotsmead, +and continue in possession of the white suite until she was of age. He +was her guardian, and would take no denial.</p> + +<p>"It wants but three months to that date," she told him.</p> + +<p>"Your home is here until you marry, Elizabeth," he rejoined in a tone +that forbade contradiction. "You shall visit Lady Latimer, but subject +to permission. Remember you are a Fairfax. Though you may go back to the +Forest, it is a delusion to imagine that you can live comfortably in the +crowded household where you were happy as a child. You have been six +years absent; three of them you have spent in the luxurious ease of +Abbotsmead. You have acquired the tastes and habits of your own class—a +very different class. You must look to me now: your pittance is not +enough for the common necessaries of life."</p> + +<p>"Not so very different a class, Uncle Laurence, and fortunately I am not +in bondage to luxurious ease," Bessie said. "But I will not be perverse. +Changes come without seeking, and I am of an adaptable disposition. The +other day I was supposed to be a great heiress—to-day I have no more +than a bare competence."</p> + +<p>"Not even that, but if you marry suitably you may be sure that I shall +make you a suitable settlement," rejoined her kinsman. Bessie speculated +in silence and many times again <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>what her uncle Laurence might mean by +"suitably," but they had no explanation, and the occasion passed.</p> + +<p>Bessie's little fortune was vested in the hands of trustees, and settled +absolutely to her own use. She could not anticipate her income nor make +away with it, which Mr. Carnegie said was a very good thing. Beyond that +remark, and a generous reminder that her old nest under the thatch was +ready for her whenever she liked to return and take possession, nothing +was said in the letters from Beechhurst about her grandfather's will or +her new vicissitude. She had some difficulty in writing to announce her +latest change to Harry Musgrave, but he wrote back promptly and +decisively to set her heart at rest, telling her that to his notions her +fortune was a very pretty fortune, and avowing a prejudice against being +maintained by his wife: he would greatly prefer that she should be +dependent upon him. Bessie, who was a loving woman far more than a proud +or ambitious one, was pleased by his assurance, and in answering him +again she confessed that would have been her choice too. Nevertheless, +she became rather impatient to see him and talk the matter over—the +more so because Harry manifested little curiosity to learn anything of +her family affairs unless they immediately affected herself. He told her +that he should be able to go down to Brook at the end of August, and he +begged her to meet him there. This she promised, and it was understood +between them that if she was not invited to Fairfield she would go to +the doctor's house, even though the boys might be at home for their +holidays.</p> + +<p>Bessie was long enough at Abbotsmead after her grandfather's death to +realize how that event affected her own position there. The old servants +had been provided for by their old master, and they left—Jonquil, +Macky, Mrs. Betts, and others their contemporaries. Bessie missed their +friendly faces, and dispensed with the services of a maid. Then Mrs. +Fairfax objected to Joss in the house, lest he should bite the children, +and Janey and Ranby were not entirely at her beck and call as formerly. +The incompetent Sally, who sang a sweet cradle-song, became quite a +personage and sovereign in the nursery, and was jealous of Miss +Fairfax's intrusion into her domain. It was inevitable and natural, but +Bessie ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>preciated better now the forethought of her grandfather in +wishing to provide her with a roof of her own. Abbotsmead under its new +squire, all his learning and philosophy notwithstanding, promised to +become quite a house of the world again, for his beautiful young wife +was proving of a most popular character, and attracted friends about her +with no effort. Instead of old Lady Angleby, the Hartwell people and the +Chivertons, came the Tindals, Edens, Raymonds, Lefevres, and Wynards; +and Miss Fairfax felt herself an object of curiosity amongst them as the +young lady who had been all but disinherited for her obstinate refusal +to marry the man of her grandfather's choice. She was generally liked, +but she was not just then in the humor to cultivate anybody's intimacy. +Mrs. Stokes was still her chief resource when she was solitary.</p> + +<p>She had a private grief and anxiety of her own, of which she could speak +to none. One day her expected letter from Harry Musgrave did not come; +it was the first time he had failed her since their compact was made. +She wrote herself as usual, and asked why she was neglected. In reply +she received a letter, not from Harry himself, but from his friend +Christie, who was nursing him through an attack of inflammation +occasioned by a chill from remaining in his wet clothes after an upset +on the river. She gathered from it that Harry had been ill and suffering +for nearly a fortnight, but that he was better, though very weak, and +that if Christie had been permitted to do as he wished, Mrs. Musgrave +would have been sent for, but her son was imperative against it. He did +not think it was necessary to put her to that distress and +inconvenience, and as he was now in a fair way of recovery it was his +particular desire that she should not be alarmed and made nervous by any +information of what he had passed through. But he would not keep it from +his dear Bessie, who had greater firmness, and who might rest assured he +was well cared for, as Christie had brought him to his own house, and +his old woman was a capital cook—a very material comfort for a +convalescent.</p> + +<p>With a recollection of the warnings of a year and a half ago, Bessie +could not but ponder this news of Harry's illness with grave distress. +She wrote to Mr. Carnegie, and enclosed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>the letter for his opinion. Mr. +Carnegie respected her confidence, and told her that from the name of +the physician mentioned by Christie as in attendance on his patient he +was in the best possible hands. She confessed to Harry what she had +done, and he found no fault with her, but his next letter was in a vein +of melancholy humor from beginning to end. He was going back, he said, +to his dismal chambers, his law-books and his scribbling, and she was to +send him a very bright letter indeed to cheer him in his solitude. How +Bessie wished she could have flown herself to cheer him! And now, too, +she half regretted her poverty under her grandfather's will, that +deferred all hope of his rescue from London smoke and toil till he had +made the means of rescue for himself. But she gave him the pleasure of +knowing what she would do if she could.</p> + +<p>Thus the summer months lapsed away. There was no hiatus in their +correspondence again, but Harry told her that he had a constant fever on +him and was longing for home and rest. Once he wrote from Richmond, +whither he had gone with Christie, "The best fellow in the +universe—love him, dear Bessie, for my sake"—and once he spoke of +going to Italy for the winter, and of newspaper letters that were to pay +the shot. He was sad, humorous, tender by turns, but Bessie missed +something. There were allusions to the vanity of man's life and joy, now +and then there was a word of philosophy for future consolation, but of +present hope there was nothing. Her eyes used to grow dim over these +letters: she understood that Harry was giving in, that he found his life +too hard for him, and that he was trying to prepare her and himself for +this great disappointment.</p> + +<p>When Parliament rose Mr. Cecil Burleigh came down to Norminster and paid +a visit to Abbotsmead. He was the bearer of an invitation to Brentwood +and his sister's wedding, but Miss Fairfax was not able to accept it. +She had just accepted an invitation to Fairfield.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>CHAPTER XLVI.</h3> + +<h3><i>TENDER AND TRUE.</i></h3> + +<p>Lady Latimer was in possession of all the facts and circumstances of her +guest's position when she arrived at Fairfield. Her grandfather's will +was notorious, and my lady did not entirely disapprove of it, as +Bessie's humbler friends did, for she still cherished expectations in +Mr. Cecil Burleigh's interest, and was not aware how far he was now from +entertaining any on his own account. Though she had convinced herself +that there was an unavowed engagement between Mr. Harry Musgrave and +Miss Fairfax, she was resolved to treat it and speak of it as a very +slight thing indeed, and one that must be set aside without weak +tenderness. Having such clear and decided views on the affair, she was +not afraid to state them even to Bessie herself.</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave had not yet arrived at Brook, but after a day devoted to +her mother Bessie's next opportunity for a visit was devoted to Harry's +mother. She mentioned to Lady Latimer where she was going, and though my +lady looked stern she did not object. On Bessie's return, however, she +found something to say, and cast off all reserves: "Mr. Harry Musgrave +has not come, but he is coming. Had I known beforehand, I should have +preferred to have you here in his absence. Elizabeth, I shall consider +that young man very deficient in honorable feeling if he attempt to +interfere between you and your true interest."</p> + +<p>"That I am sure he never will," said Bessie with animation.</p> + +<p>"He is not over-modest. If you are advised by me you will be distant +with him—you will give him no advantage by which he may imagine himself +encouraged. Any foolish promise that you exchanged when you were last +here must be forgotten."</p> + +<p>Bessie replied with much quiet dignity: "You know, Lady Latimer, that I +was not brought up to think rank and riches essential, and the +experience I have had of them has not been so enticing that I should +care to sacrifice for their sake a true <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>and tried affection. Harry +Musgrave and I are dear friends, and, since you speak to me so frankly, +I will tell you that we propose to be friends for life."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer grew very red, very angry: "Do you tell me that you will +marry that young man—without birth, without means, without a profession +even? What has he, or is he, that should tempt you to throw away the +fine position that awaits your acceptance?"</p> + +<p>"He has a real kindness for me, a real unselfish love, and I would +rather be enriched with that than be ever so exalted. It is an old +promise. I always did love Harry Musgrave, and never anybody else."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer fumed, walked about and sat down again: "How are you to +live?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Bessie cheerfully. "Like other young people—partly +on our prospects. But we do not talk of marrying yet."</p> + +<p>"It is a relief to hear that you do not talk of marrying yet, though how +you can dream of marrying young Mr. Musgrave at all, when you have Mr. +Cecil Burleigh at your feet, is to me a strange, incomprehensible +infatuation."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cecil Burleigh is not at my feet any longer. He has got up and gone +back to Miss Julia Gardiner's feet, which he ought never to have left. +Grandpapa's will has the effect of making two charming people happy, and +I am glad of it."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" said Lady Latimer in a low, chagrined voice. "Then you +have lost him. I presume that you felt the strain of such high +companionship too severe for you? Early habits cling very close."</p> + +<p>"He had no fascination for me; it was an effort sometimes."</p> + +<p>"You must have been carrying on a correspondence with Mr. Harry Musgrave +all this while."</p> + +<p>"We have corresponded during the last year," said Bessie calmly.</p> + +<p>"I blame myself that I ever gave the opportunity for a renewal of your +old friendliness. That is the secret of your wilfulness."</p> + +<p>"I loved Harry best—that is the secret of it," said Bessie; and she +turned away to close the discussion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>It was a profound mortification to Lady Latimer to hear within the week +from various quarters that Mr. Cecil Burleigh was at Ryde, and to all +appearance on the happiest terms with Miss Julia Gardiner. And in fact +they were quietly married one morning by special license, and the next +news of them was that they were travelling in the Tyrol.</p> + +<p>It was about a week after this, when Bessie was spending a few hours +with her mother, that she heard of Harry Musgrave's arrival at Brook. It +was the doctor who brought the intelligence. He came into the little +drawing-room where his wife and Bessie were sitting, and said, "I called +at Brook in passing and saw poor Harry."</p> + +<p>"Well, Thomas, and how is he?" inquired Mrs. Carnegie in the anxious +tone a kind voice takes when asking after the health of a friend who may +be in a critical way. Bessie dropped her work and looked from one to the +other.</p> + +<p>The doctor did not answer directly, but, addressing Bessie, he said, +"You must not be shocked, my dear, when you see Harry Musgrave."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter? I have heard nothing: is he ill again?" cried +Bessie.</p> + +<p>"He must never go back to London," said Mr. Carnegie with a great sigh.</p> + +<p>"Is it so bad as that? Poor Harry!" said his wife in a sad, suppressed +tone. Bessie said nothing: her throat ached, her eyes burnt, but she was +too stunned and bewildered to inquire further, and yet she thought she +had been prepared for something like this.</p> + +<p>"He asked after you, Bessie, and when you would go to see him," the +doctor went on.</p> + +<p>"I will go now. It is not too late? he is not too tired? will he be +glad?" Bessie said, all in a breath.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he wants to talk to you; but you will have to walk all the way, +dear, and alone, for I have to go the other road."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the walk will not hurt me. And when I have seen him I will go back +to Fairfield. But tell me what ails him: has he been over-working, or is +it the results of his illness?" Bessie was very earnest to know all +there was to be known.</p> + +<p>"Work is not to blame: the lad was always more or less <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>delicate, though +his frame was so powerful," Mr. Carnegie said with gravity. "He is out +of spirits, and he has had a warning to beware of the family complaint. +That is not to say it has marked him yet—he may live for years, with +care and prudence live to a good old age—but there is no public career +before him; and it is a terrible prospect, this giving up and coming +down, to a young fellow of his temper. His mother sits and looks at him, +beats on her knee, deplores the money spent on his college education, +and frets; you must try your hand at some other sort of consolation, +Bessie, for that will never do. Now, if you are going, my dear, you had +better start."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie wished she could have offered herself as Bessie's +companion, but she would have been an impediment rather than a help, and +Bessie set out alone. She had gone that way to Brook many and many a +time, but never quite alone before. It seemed, at first, strange to her +to be walking across the open heath by herself, and yet she felt, +somehow, as if it had all happened before—perhaps in a dream. It was a +warm afternoon towards six o'clock, and the August glow of the heather +in blossom spread everywhere like a purple sea. At the gate of the +Forest Farm the cows were gathered, with meek patience expecting their +call to the milking-shed; but after she passed under the shade of the +trees beyond Great-Ash Ford she met not a creature until she came in +sight of the wicket opening into the wood from the manor-garden. And +there was Harry Musgrave himself.</p> + +<p>Approaching over the turf with her light swift foot, Bessie drew quite +near to him unheard, and saw him before he saw her. He had seated +himself on a fallen tree, and leant his head on his hand in an easy +attitude; his countenance was abstracted rather than sad, and his eyes, +fixed on the violet and amber of the sky in the west, were full of +tranquil watching. Bessie's voice as she cried out his name was +tremulous with joy, and her face as he turned and saw her was beautiful +with the flush of young love's delight.</p> + +<p>"I was waiting for you. I knew you would come, my dear, my dear!" was +his greeting. They went into the garden hand in hand, silent: they +looked at each other with assured happiness. Harry said, "You are all in +black, Bessie."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>"Yes, for poor grandpapa: don't you remember? I will put it off +to-morrow if you dislike it."</p> + +<p>"Put it off; I <i>do</i> dislike it: you have worn it long enough." They +directed their steps to their favorite seat under the beeches, but Mrs. +Musgrave, restless since her son's arrival, and ever on the watch, came +down to them with a plea that they would avoid the damp ground and +falling dew. The ground was dry as dust, and the sun would not set yet +for a good hour.</p> + +<p>"There is the sitting-room if you want to be by yourselves," she said +plaintively. "Perhaps you'll be able to persuade Harry to show some +sense, Bessie Fairfax, and feeling for his health: he won't listen to +his mother."</p> + +<p>She followed them into the spacious old room, and would have shut the +lattices because the curtains were gently flapping in the evening +breeze, but Harry protested: "Mother dear, let us have air—it is life +and pleasure to me. After the sultry languor of town this is delicious."</p> + +<p>"There you go, Harry, perverse as ever! He never could be made to mind a +draught, Bessie; and though he has just been told that consumption is in +the family, and carried off his uncle Walter—every bit as fine a young +man as himself—he pays no heed. He might as well have stopped on the +farm from the beginning, if this was to be the end. I am more mortified +than tongue can tell."</p> + +<p>Harry stood gazing at her with a pitiful patience, and said kindly, "You +fear too much, mother. I shall live to give you more trouble yet."</p> + +<p>"Even trouble's precious if that's all my son is likely to give me. I +would rather have trouble than nothing." She went out, closing the door +softly as if she were leaving a sick room. Bessie felt very sorry for +her, and when she looked at Harry again, and saw the expression of +helpless, painful regret in his face, she could have wept for them both.</p> + +<p>"Poor mother! she is bitterly disappointed in me, Bessie," he said, +dropping into one of the huge old elbow-chairs.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Harry, it is all her love! She will get over this, and you will +repay her hurt pride another day," cried Bessie, eager to comfort him.</p> + +<p>"Shall I, Bessie? But how? but when? We must take <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>counsel together. +They have been telling me it is selfish and a sacrifice and unmanly to +bind Bessie to me now, but I see no sign that Bessie wants her freedom," +he said, looking at her with laughing, wistful eyes—always with that +sense of masculine triumph which Bessie's humility had encouraged.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Harry, I want no freedom but the freedom to love and serve you!" +cried she with a rush of tears and a hand held out to him. And then with +an irresistible, passionate sorrow she fell on her knees beside him and +hid her face on his shoulder. He put his arm round her and held her fast +for several minutes, himself too moved to speak. He guessed what this +sudden outburst of feeling meant: it meant that Bessie saw him so +altered, saw through his quiet humor into the deep anxiety of his heart.</p> + +<p>"I'll conceal nothing from you, Bessie: I don't think I have felt the +worst of my defeat yet," were his words when he spoke at last. She +listened, still on her knees: "It is a common thing to say that suspense +is worse to bear than certainty, but the certainty that destroys hope +and makes the future a blank is very like a millstone hanged round a +man's neck to sink him in a slough of despondency. I never really +believed it until Dr. Courteney told me that if I wish to save my life +it must be at the cost of my ambition; that I can never be an advocate, +a teacher, a preacher; that I shall have to go softly all my days, and +take care that the winds don't blow on me too roughly; that I must be an +exile from English fogs and cold, let me prefer home ever so dearly; +that I must read only a little, and write only a little, and avoid all +violent emotions, and be in fact the creature I have most despised—a +poor valetudinarian, always feeling my own pulse and considering my own +feelings."</p> + +<p>"You will have to change much more before you will come to that; and I +never knew you despise anybody, Harry," Bessie said with gentle +deprecation. "You had a tender heart from a boy, and others feel kindly +towards you."</p> + +<p>"And come what may, my dear little Bessie will keep her faith to me?" +said Harry looking down into her sweet eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Harry."</p> + +<p>After a pause he spoke again: "You have done me good, dear; I shall rest +better for having talked to you to-night. It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>is in the night-time that +thought is terrible. For months past, ever since I was ill in the +spring, the foreshadow of failure has loomed dark and close upon me like +a suffocating weight—what I must do; how I must live without being a +tax on my father, if I am to live; what he and my mother would feel; +what old friends would say; who could or would help me to some harmless +occupation; and whether I should not, for everybody's sake, be better +out of the world."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Harry, but that was faint-hearted!" said Bessie with a touch of +reproach. "You forgot me, then?"</p> + +<p>"I have had several strokes of bad luck lately, or perhaps I ought to +suspect that not being in good case my work was weak. Manuscript after +manuscript has been returned on my hands. Surely this was discouraging. +There on the table is a roll of which I had better hopes, and I found it +awaiting me here."</p> + +<p>"May I take it to Fairfield and read it?" Bessie asked. "It is as big as +a book."</p> + +<p>"Yes; if it were printed and bound it would be a book. Read it, and let +me know how it impresses you."</p> + +<p>Bessie looked mightily glad. "If you will let me help you, Harry, you +will make me happy," said she. "What is it about?"</p> + +<p>"It is a story, for your comfort—a true story. I could not devise a +plot, so I fell back on a series of pathetic facts. Life is very sad, +Bessie. Why are we so fond of it?"</p> + +<p>"We take it in detail, as we take the hours of the day and the days of +the year, and it is very endurable. It has seemed to me sometimes that +those whom we call fortunate are the least happy, and that the hard lot +is often lifted into the sphere of blessedness. Consider Mr. and Mrs. +Moxon; they appear to have nothing to be thankful for, and yet in their +devotion to one another what perfect peace and consolation!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bessie, but it is a dreadful fate!" said Harry. "Poor Moxon! who +began life with as fine hopes and as solid grounds for them as any +man,—there he is vegetating at Littlemire still, his mind chiefly taken +up with thinking whether his sick wife will be a little more or a little +less suffering to-day than she was yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I saw them last week, and could have envied them. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span>is as near an +angel as a woman can be; and he was very contented in the garden, giving +lessons to a village boy in whom he has discovered a genius for +mathematics. He talked of nothing else."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy! poor genius! And are we to grow after the Moxons' pattern, +Bessie—meek, patient, heavenly?" said Harry.</p> + +<p>"By the time our hair is white, Harry, I have no objection, but there is +a long meanwhile," replied Bessie with brave uplooking face. "We have +love between us and about us, and that is the first thing. The best +pleasures are the cheapest—we burden life with too many needless cares. +You may do as much good in an obscure groove of the world as you might +do if your name was in all men's mouths. I don't believe that I admire +very successful people."</p> + +<p>"That is lucky for us both, since I am a poor fellow whose health has +given way—who is never likely to have any success at all."</p> + +<p>"You don't know, Harry; but this is not the time to remember pride and +ambition—it is the time to recover all the health and strength you can; +and with them hope and power will return. What do you most enjoy in the +absence of work?"</p> + +<p>"Fresh air, fine scenery, and the converse of men. To live plainly is no +hardship to me; it would be a great hardship to fall on lower +associations, which is the common destiny of the poor and decayed +scholar. You will save me, Bessie?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will!" And on this they clasped hands fervently.</p> + +<p>"Bessie, can we go to Italy together this winter? I dare not go alone: I +must have you to take care of me," pleaded Harry.</p> + +<p>"I will take care of you, Harry." Bessie was smiling, tearful, blushing, +and Harry said she was a dear, good girl, and he thanked her.</p> + +<p>After that there was some exposition of ways and means, and Bessie, +growing rosier and rosier, told Harry the story of that famous nest-egg, +concerning which she had been put to the blush before. He was very glad +to hear of it—very glad indeed, and much relieved, for it would make +that easy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>which he had been dwelling on as most of all desirable, but +hampered with difficulties that he could not himself remove. To see him +cheer up at this practical point was delightful to Bessie; it was like +his generous warm heart, equally open to give and to receive. She felt +almost too happy, and blessed the simple forethought of the doctor which +would justify them in remitting all care and anxiety to a future at +least two years off, and afford Harry leisure and opportunity to regain +his health and courage, and look about him for another vocation than +that he had chosen originally.</p> + +<p>"And you will find it, Harry, and perhaps you will love it better than +London and dusty law. I am sure I shall," prophesied Bessie gayly.</p> + +<p>Harry laughed at her obstinate prejudice; she pointed out that the +result had proved it a shrewd prejudice; and then they fell upon Italy +and talked travel-talk with the sanguine anticipations of young people +endowed with limitless curiosity and a genuine taste for simple +pleasures and each other's society. Harry's classical learning would be +everywhere available for the enhancement of these pleasures.</p> + +<p>At this stage of their previsions Mrs. Musgrave intervened, and Bessie +became conscious that the shades of evening were stealing over the +landscape. Mrs. Musgrave had on her bonnet, and was prepared to walk +with Bessie on the road to Fairfield until they should meet Mr. Musgrave +returning from Hampton, who would accompany her the rest of the way. +Harry wished to go in his mother's stead, but she was peremptory in +bidding him stay where he was, and Bessie supported her. "No, Harry, not +to-night—another time," she said, and he yielded at once.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure his mother thanks you," said Mrs. Musgrave as they went out. +"He was so jaded this morning when he arrived that the tears came into +his eyes at a word, and Mr. Carnegie said that showed how thoroughly +done he is."</p> + +<p>Tears in Harry's eyes! Bessie thought of him with a most pitiful +tenderness. "Oh," she said, "we must all be good to him: he does not +look so ill to me as he looks tired. We must keep up his spirits and his +hope for himself. I see no cause for despair."</p> + +<p>"You are young, Bessie Fairfax, and it is easy for you to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>hope that +everything will turn out for the best, but it is a sore trial for his +father and me to have our expectation taken away. If Harry would have +been advised when he left college, he would never have gone to London. +But it is no use talking of that now. I wish we could see what he is to +do for a living; he will fret his heart out doing nothing at Brook."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Musgrave, with a quire of paper and one of your gray +goosequills Harry will be preserved from the mischief of doing nothing. +You must let me come over and cheer him sometimes."</p> + +<p>"If things had turned out different with my poor son, all might have +been different. You have a good, affectionate disposition, Bessie, and +there is nobody Harry prizes as he prizes you; but a young man whose +health is indifferent and who has no prospects—what is that for a young +lady?" Mrs. Musgrave began to cry.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, dear Mrs. Musgrave; if you cry, that will hurt Harry worse +than anything," said Bessie energetically. "He feels his disappointment +more for his father and you than for himself. His health is not so bad +but that it will mend; and as for his prospects, it is not wise to +impress upon him that the cloud he is under now may never disperse. 'A +cheerful heart doeth good like a medicine.' Have a cheerful heart again. +It will come with trying."</p> + +<p>They had not yet met Mr. Musgrave, though they were nearly a mile on the +road, but Bessie would not permit the poor mother to walk any farther +with her. They parted with a kiss. "And God for ever bless you, Bessie +Fairfax, if you have it in your heart to be to Harry what nobody else +can be," said his mother, laying her tremulous hands on the girl's +shoulders. Bessie kissed her again and went on her way rejoicing. This +was one of the happiest hours her life had ever known. She was not +tempted to dwell wantonly on the dark side of events present, and there +were so many brighter possibilities in the future that she could +entirely act out the divine precept to let the morrow take thought for +the things of itself.</p> + +<p>When Bessie Fairfax reached Fairfield, Roberts informed her in a +depressed manner that her ladyship was waiting dinner. Bessie started at +this view of her impolite absence, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>hastened to the drawing-room to +apologize. But Lady Latimer coldly waived her explanations, and Bessie +felt very self-reproachful until an idea occurred to her what she would +do. After a brief retreat and rapid toilet she reappeared with Harry's +manuscript in her hand, and with simple craft displaying the roll, she +said, "This is for us to read—a true story. It is not in print yet, but +Mr. Harry Musgrave writes a plain hand. We are to give him our opinion +of it. I believe that, after all, he will be a poor author—one of my +heroes, Lady Latimer."</p> + +<p>"One of your heroes, Elizabeth? There is nothing very heroic in Mr. +Logger," rejoined my lady softening, and holding out her hand for the +manuscript. "Is the young man very ill?"</p> + +<p>"No, no—not so ill that we need fear his dying inglorious without +giving the world something to remember him by, but discouraged by the +dicta of friends and physicians, who consign him to idleness and +obscurity for a year or two."</p> + +<p>"Which idleness and obscurity I presume it is your wish to alleviate?" +said Lady Latimer with half-contemptuous resignation. "Come to dinner +now: we will read your hero's story afterward."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer's personal interests were so few that it was a necessity +for her generous soul to adopt the interests of other people. She kept +Bessie reading until eleven o'clock, when she was dismissed to bed and +ordered to leave the manuscript below, lest she should sit up and read +it when she ought to be asleep. But what Bessie might not do my lady was +quite at liberty to do herself, and she made an end of the tale before +she retired. And not only that. She wrote to Mr. Logger to recommend a +publisher, and to ask how proper payment could be assured to a young and +unknown author. She described the story to the veteran critic as a sad, +pretty story of true love (which people go on believing in), sensibly +written, without serious flaws of taste or grammar, and really worth +reading if one had nothing else to do. In the morning she informed +Bessie of what she had done. Bessie was not quite sure that Harry would +feel gratified at being placed under the protection of her ladyship and +Mr. Logger; but as she could not well revoke the letter that was +written, she said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>nothing against it, and Lady Latimer was busy and +happy for a week in the expectation that she was doing something for +"the unfortunate young man." But at the week's end Mr. Logger dashed her +confidence with the answer that he had not been able to meet with any +publisher willing to pay money down for a sad, pretty story of true love +by an unknown author: sad, pretty stories of true love were a drug in +the literary market. She was grievously disappointed. Bessie was the +same, and as she had confessed a hope to Harry, she had to carry to him +the tidings of failure. If he was sorry, it was for her regret, but they +soon began to talk of other things. They had agreed that if good luck +came they would be glad, and if bad luck they would pass it lightly +over.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h3> + +<h3><i>GOODNESS PREVAILS</i>.</h3> + +<p>Desirous as Lady Latimer was to do Mr. Harry Musgrave a service, her +good-will towards him ended there. She perversely affected to believe +that Miss Fairfax's avowed promise to him constituted no engagement, and +on this plea put impediments in the way of her visits to Brook, lest a +handle should be given to gossip. Bessie herself was not concerned to +hinder gossip. With the exception of Lady Latimer, all her old friends +in the Forest were ready to give her their blessing. The Wileys were +more and more astonished that she should be so short-sighted, but Mr. +Phipps shook her by both hands and expressed his cordial approbation, +and Miss Buff advised her to have her own way, and let those who were +vexed please themselves again.</p> + +<p>Bessie suffered hours of argument from my lady, who, when she found she +could prevail nothing, took refuge in a sort of scornful, compassionate +silence. These silences were, however, of brief duration. She appealed +to Mr. Carnegie, who gave her for answer that Bessie was old enough to +know her own mind, and if that leant towards Mr. Harry Musgrave, so much +the better for him; if she were a weak, impulsive <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span>girl, he would advise +delay and probation, but she was of full age and had a good sensible +head of her own; she knew Mr. Harry Musgrave's circumstances, tastes, +prejudices, and habits—what she would gain in marrying him, and what +she would resign. What more was there to say? Mr. Laurence Fairfax had +neither the power nor the will to interpose authoritatively; he made +inquiries into Mr. Harry Musgrave's university career, and talked of him +to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, who replied with magnanimity that but for the +break-down of his health he was undoubtedly one of those young men from +whose early achievement and mental force the highest successes might +have been expected in after-life. Thereupon Mr. Laurence Fairfax and his +gentle wife pitied him, and could not condemn Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carnegie considered that Bessie manifested signal prudence, +forethought, and trust in God when she proposed that her nest-egg, which +was now near a thousand pounds, should supply the means of living in +Italy for a couple of years, without reference to what might come after. +But when Elizabeth wrote to her uncle Laurence to announce what manner +of life she was preparing to enter upon, and what provision was made for +it, though he admired her courage he wrote back that it should not be so +severely tested. It was his intention to give her the portion that would +have been her father's—not so much as the old squire had destined for +her had she married as he wished (that, she knew, had gone another way), +but a competence sufficient to live on, whether at home or abroad. He +told her that one-half of her fortune ought to be settled on Mr. Harry +Musgrave, to revert to her if he died first, and he concluded by +offering himself as one of her trustees.</p> + +<p>This generous letter made Bessie very glad, and having shown it to Lady +Latimer at breakfast, she went off with it to Brook directly after. She +found Harry in the sitting-room, turning out the contents of his old +desk. In his hand at the moment of her entrance was the white rose that +he had taken from her at Bayeux; it kept its fragrance still. She gave +him her uncle's letter to read, and when he had read it he said, "If I +did not love you so much, Bessie, this would be a burden painful to +bear."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>"Then don't let us speak of it—let me bear it. I am pleased that my +uncle Laurence should be so good to us. When you meet I know you will be +friends. He is in elysium when he can get a good scholar to talk to, and +he will want you to send him all sorts of archæological intelligence +from Rome."</p> + +<p>"I have a piece of news too—hopeful news from Christie," said Harry, +producing one of the artist's rapid scratches. "It is to tell me that he +is on the committee of a new illustrated magazine of art which is to +start at Christmas, and that he is sure I can help them with the +letter-press department while we are in Italy."</p> + +<p>"Of course you can. And they will require a story: that sweet story of +yours has some picture bits that would be exquisite if they fell into +the hands of a sympathetic artist. Let us send it to Christie, Harry +dear."</p> + +<p>"Very well: nothing venture, nothing have. The manuscript is with you. +Take Christie's letter for his address; you will see that he wants an +answer without loss of time. He is going to be married very shortly, and +will be out of town till November."</p> + +<p>"I will despatch the story by to-day's post, and a few lines of what I +think of it: independent criticism is useful sometimes."</p> + +<p>Harry looked at her, laughing and saying with a humorous deprecation, +"Bessie's independent criticism!"</p> + +<p>Bessie blushed and laughed too, but steadfastly affirmed, "Indeed, +Harry, if I did not think it the prettiest story I ever read I would not +tell you so. Lady Latimer said it was pretty, and you cannot accuse her +of loving you too much."</p> + +<p>"No. And that brings me to another matter. I wish you would come away +from Fairfield: come here, Bessie. In this rambling old house there is +room enough and to spare, and you shall have all the liberty you please. +I don't see you as often or for as long as I want, and the order of +things is quite reversed: I would much rather set out to walk to you +than wait and watch for your appearance."</p> + +<p>"Had I not better go home? My little old nest under the thatch is empty, +and the boys are away."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>"Come here first for a week; we have never stayed in one house together +since we were children. I want to see my dear little Bessie every hour +of the day. At Fairfield you are caged. When her ladyship puts on her +grand manner and towers she is very daunting to a poor lover."</p> + +<p>"She has not seen you since you left London, Harry. I should like you to +meet; then I think she might forgive us," said Bessie, with a wistful +regret. Sometimes she was highly indignant with my lady, but in the +depths of her heart there was always a fund of affection, admiration, +and respect for the idol of her childish days.</p> + +<p>The morning but one after this Bessie's anxious desire that my lady and +her dear Harry should meet was unexpectedly gratified. It was about +halfway towards noon when she was considering whether or no she could +with peace and propriety bring forward her wish to go again to Brook, +when Lady Latimer hurried down from her sanctum, which overlooked the +drive, saying, "Elizabeth, here is young Mr. Musgrave on horseback; run +and bid him come in and rest. He is giving some message to Roberts and +going away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please ask him yourself," said Bessie, but at the same moment she +hastened out to the door.</p> + +<p>It was a sultry, oppressive morning, and Harry looked languid and +ill—more ill than Bessie had ever seen him look. She felt inexpressibly +shocked and pained, and he smiled as if to relieve her, while he held +out a letter that he had been on the point of entrusting to Roberts: +"From that excellent fellow, Christie. Your independent criticism has +opened his eyes to the beauties of my story, and he declares that he +shall claim the landscape bits himself."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer advanced with a pale, grave face, and invited the young man +to dismount. There was something of entreaty in her voice: "The +morning-room is the coolest, Elizabeth—take Mr. Musgrave there. I shall +be occupied until luncheon, but I hope you will be able to persuade him +to stay."</p> + +<p>Bessie's lips repeated, "Stay," and Harry not unthankfully entered the +house. He dropt into a great easy-chair and put up one hand to cover his +eyes, and so continued for several minutes. Lady Latimer stood an +instant looking at him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>with a pitiful, scared gaze, and then, avoiding +Bessie's face, she turned and left the lovers together. Bessie laid her +hand on Harry's shoulder and spoke kindly to him: he was tired, the +atmosphere was very close and took away his strength. After a while he +recovered himself and said something about Christie's friendliness, and +perhaps if <i>he</i> illustrated the story they should see reminiscences of +the manor-garden and of Great-Ash Ford, and other favorite spots in the +Forest. They did not talk much or eagerly at all, but Christie's +commendation of the sad pretty story of true love was a distinct +pleasure to them both, and especially to Harry. His mother had begged +him to stop at home and let the letter be sent over to Fairfield, but he +wanted the gratification of telling Bessie his news himself; and the +ride in the hot, airless weather had been too fatiguing. Bessie took up +a piece of work and sat by the window, silent, soothing. He turned his +chair to face her, and from his position he had a distant view of the +sea—a dark blue line on the horizon. He had been fond of the sea and of +boats from his first school-days at Hampton, and as he contemplated its +great remote calm a longing to be out upon it took possession of him, +which he immediately confessed to Bessie. Bessie did not think he need +long in vain for that—it was easy of accomplishment. He said yes—Ryde +was not far, and a Ryde wherry was a capital craft for sailing.</p> + +<p>Just as he was speaking Lady Latimer came back bringing some delicious +fruit for Harry's refreshment. "What is that you are saying about Ryde?" +she inquired quickly. "I am going to Ryde for a week or two, and as I +shall take Elizabeth with me, you can come to us there, Mr. Musgrave, +and enjoy the salt breezes. It is very relaxing in the Forest at this +season."</p> + +<p>Bessie by a glance supplicated Harry to be gracious, and in obedience to +her mute entreaty he thanked her ladyship and said it would give him the +truest pleasure. My lady had never thought of going to Ryde until that +moment, but since she had seen Harry Musgrave and had been struck by the +tragedy of his countenance, and all that was meant by his having to fall +out of the race of life so early, she was impelled by an irresistible +goodness of nature to be kind and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>generous to him. Robust people, +healthy, wealthy, and wise, she could let alone, but poverty, sickness, +or any manner of trouble appealed straight to her noble heart, and +brought out all her spirit of Christian fellowship. She was prompt and +thorough in doing a good action, and when she met the young people at +luncheon her arrangements for going to the island were all made, and she +announced that the next day, in the cool of the evening, they would +drive to Hampton and cross by the last boat to Ryde. This sudden and +complete revolution in her behavior was not owing to any change in +principle, but to sheer pitifulness of temper. She had not realized +before what an immense disaster and overthrow young Musgrave was +suffering, but at the sight of his pathetic visage and weakened frame, +and of Elizabeth's exquisite tenderness, she knew that such great love +must be given to him for consolation and a shield against despair. It +was quite within the scope of her imagination to depict the temptations +of a powerful and aspiring mind reduced to bondage and inaction by the +development of inherited disease: to herself it would have been of all +fates the most terrible, and thus she fancied it for him. But in Harry +Musgrave's nature there was no bitterness or fierce revolt, no angry +sarcasm against an unjust world or stinging remorse for fault of his +own. Defeat was his destiny, and he bowed to it as the old Greek heroes +bowed to the decree of the gods, and laughed sometimes at the impotence +of misfortune to fetter the free flight of his thoughts. And Elizabeth +was his angel of peace.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h3> + +<h3><i>CERTAIN OPINIONS</i>.</h3> + +<p>The house that Lady Latimer always occupied on her visits to Ryde was +away from the town and the pier, amongst the green fields going out +towards Binstead. It had a shaded garden down to the sea, and a +landing-place of its own when the tide was in. A balcony, looking north, +made the narrow drawing-room spacious, and my lady and her despatch-box +were established in a cool room below, adjoining the dining-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>parlor. She +did not like the pier or the strand, with their shoals of company in the +season, and took her drives out on the white roads to Wootton and +Newport, Osborne and Cowes, commonly accompanied by some poor friend to +whom a drive was an unfrequent pleasure. She never trusted herself to a +small boat, and as for the wherry that bore Harry Musgrave and Elizabeth +every morning flying before the wind for three delicious hours, she +appreciated its boasted safety so slightly that she was always relieved +to see them safe back again, whether they landed at the foot of the +garden or came through the town. It was beautiful weather, with fine +fresh breezes all the week, and Harry looked and felt so much like a new +man at the end of it that my lady insisted on his remaining a second +week, when they would all return to the Forest together. He had given +her the highest satisfaction by so visibly taking the benefit of her +hospitality, and had made great way in her private esteem besides. +Amongst her many friends and acquaintances then at Ryde, for every day's +dinner she chose one gentleman for the sake of good talk that Mr. Harry +Musgrave might not tire, and the breadth and diversity of the young +man's knowledge and interests surprised her.</p> + +<p>One evening after some especially amusing conversation with a travelled +doctor, who was great in the scientific study of botany and beetles, she +said to Elizabeth when they were alone, "What a pity! what a grievous +pity! There is no position brains and energy can win that Mr. Harry +Musgrave might not raise himself to if his health were equal to his +mental capacity. And with what dignity and fortitude he bears his +condemnation to a desultory, obscure existence! I had no idea there +could be so much sweet patience in a man. Do you anticipate that it will +be always so?"</p> + +<p>"Harry is very happy now, and I do not look forward much or far," +Elizabeth said quietly. "People say men are so different from women, but +after all they must be more like women than like anything else. So I try +sometimes to put myself in Harry's place, and I know there will be +fluctuations—perhaps, even a sense of waste and blankness now and then, +and a waking up of regret. But he has no envious littleness of mind and +no irritability of temper: when he is feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span>ing ill he will feel low. But +our life need not be dull or restricted, and he has naturally a most +enjoying humor."</p> + +<p>"And he will have you—I think, after all, Elizabeth, you have found +your vocation—to love and to serve; a blessed vocation for those called +to it, but full of sorrows to those who take it up when the world and +pride have disappointed them."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth knew that my lady was reflecting on herself. They were both +silent for a few minutes, and then Elizabeth went on: "Harry and I have +been thinking that a yacht would be an excellent establishment for us to +begin with—a yacht that would be fit to coast along France, and could +be laid up at Bordeaux while we rest for the winter at Arcachon—or, if +we are of a mind to go farther, that would carry us to the +Mediterranean. Harry loves a city, and Bologna attracts his present +curiosity: I tell him because it was once a famous school of law."</p> + +<p>"Bologna is a most interesting city. He would be well amused there," +said my lady. "It has a learned society, and is full of antiquities and +pictures. It is in the midst of a magnificent country too. I spent a +month there once with Lord Latimer, and we found the drives in the +vicinity unparalleled. You cannot do better than go to Bologna. Take +your yacht round to one of the Adriatic ports—to Venice. I can supply +you with guide-books. I perceive that Mr. Harry Musgrave must be well +entertained. A Ryde wherry with you in the morning is the perfection of +entertainment, but he has an evident relish for sound masculine +discourse in the evening: we must not be too exacting."</p> + +<p>Bessie colored slightly and laughed. "I don't think that I am very +exacting," she said. "I am sure whatever Harry likes he shall do, for +me. I know he wants the converse of men; he classes it with fine scenery +and fresh air as one of the three delights that he most inclines to, +since hard work is forbidden him. Bologna will be better than Arcachon +for the winter."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if the climate be suitable. We must find out what the climate is, +or you may alter your plans again. I have not heard yet when the great +event is to take place—when you are to be married."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>"My father thinks that Harry should avoid the late autumn in the +Forest—the fall of the leaf," Bessie began with rosy diffidence.</p> + +<p>"But you have made no preparations? And there are the settlements!" +exclaimed Lady Latimer, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Our preparations are going on. My uncle Laurence and Mr. Carnegie will +be our trustees; they have consulted Harry, I know, and the settlements +are in progress. Oh, there will be no difficulty."</p> + +<p>"But the wedding will be at Abbotsmead, since Mr. Laurence Fairfax gives +his countenance?" Lady Latimer suggested interrogatively.</p> + +<p>Bessie's blush deepened: "No. I have promised Harry that it shall be at +Beechhurst, and very quiet. Therefore when we return to the Forest I +shall have to ask you to leave me at the doctor's house."</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer was silent and astonished. Then she said with emphasis: +"Elizabeth, I cannot approve of that plan. If you will not go to +Abbotsmead, why not be married from Fairfield? I shall be glad to render +you every assistance."</p> + +<p>"You are very, very kind, but Harry would not like it," pleaded Bessie.</p> + +<p>"You are too indulgent, Elizabeth. Harry would not like it, indeed! Why +should he have everything his own way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady Latimer, I am sure you would not have the heart to cross him +yourself!" cried Bessie.</p> + +<p>My lady looked up at her sharply, but Elizabeth's face was quite +serious: "He has rallied wonderfully during the week—rallied both his +strength and his spirits. It is fortunate he has that buoyancy. Every +girl loves a gay wedding."</p> + +<p>"It would be peculiarly distasteful to Harry under the circumstances, +and I would not give him pain for the world," Bessie said warmly.</p> + +<p>"He is as well able to bear a little contradiction as the rest of us," +said Lady Latimer, looking lofty. "In my day the lady was consulted. Now +everything must be arranged to accommodate the gentleman. I'm sure we +are grown very humble!"</p> + +<p>Bessie looked meekly on the carpet and did not belie my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>lady's words. +Something in her air was provoking—perhaps that very meekness, in +certain lights so foreign to her character—for Lady Latimer colored, +and continued in her frostiest tone: "If you are ashamed of the +connection you are forming, that justifies your not inviting the world +to look on at your wedding, which ought to be an hour of pride and +triumph to a girl."</p> + +<p>Bessie's meekness vanished in a blush: "And it will be an hour of +triumph to me. Ashamed! Harry Musgrave is to me the best and dearest +heart that breathes," she exclaimed; and my lady was too well advised to +prolong the argument, especially as she felt that it would be useless.</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave was not grudging of his gratitude for real kindness, and +though, when he was in his stronger mood, Lady Latimer was perhaps still +disposed to huff him, the next hour she was as good as she knew how to +be. The visit to the island was productive of excellent results in the +way of a better understanding, and my lady made no more opposition to +Elizabeth's leaving her and taking up her abode in Mr. Carnegie's house +until her marriage.</p> + +<p>For a day or two the triangular nest under the thatch felt small and +confined to Bessie, but one morning the rustic sweetness of honeysuckle +blowing in at the open lattice awoke in her memory a thousand happy +childish recollections and brought back all the dear home-feelings. Then +Harry Musgrave was more like his original self here than elsewhere. +Insensibly he fell into his easy boyish pleasantry of manner, and +announced himself as more secure of his fate when he found Bessie +sitting in company with a work-basket in the pretty, low, old-fashioned +drawing-room, perfumed with roses overflowing the china bowl. Bessie had +a perfect notion of the fitness of things, and as simplicity of dress +seemed best suited to her beauty in that place, she attired herself in +her plainest and most becoming gown, and Harry looked her over +approvingly and called her his dear little Bessie again. The doctor, her +mother, the children, every early friend out of the house, was glad, and +congratulated her upon her return to the Forest and to them. And now and +then, in the dreamy length of the days when she sat thinking, all the +interval of time and all the change of scene, circumstance, and faces +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>since she first went away appeared to her like a dream of the night +when it is gone.</p> + +<p>Of course she had to listen to the moralities of this last vicissitude +from her various friends.</p> + +<p>Said Miss Buff confidentially, "There is a vast deal more in +surroundings, Bessie, than people like to admit. We are all under their +influence. If we had seen you at Abbotsmead, we might have pitied your +sacrifice, but when we see you at the doctor's in your sprigged cambric +dresses, and your beautiful wavy hair in the style we remember, it seems +the most right and natural thing in the world that you should marry Mr. +Harry Musgrave—no condescension in it. But I did not <i>quite</i> feel that +while you were at Fairfield, though I commended your resolution to have +your own way. Now that you are here you are just Bessie Fairfax—only +the doctor's little daughter. And that goes in proof of what I always +maintain—that grand people, where they are not known, ought never to +divest themselves of the outward and visible signs of their grandness; +for Nature has not been bountiful to them all with either wit or sense, +manners or beauty, though there are toadies everywhere able to discern +in them the virtues and graces suitable to their rank."</p> + +<p>"Lady Latimer looks her part upon the stage," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"But how many don't! The countess of Harbro', for instance; who that did +not know her would take her for anything but a common person? Insolent +woman she is! She found fault with the choir to me last Sunday, as if I +were a singing-mistress and she paid my salary. Has old Phipps confessed +how you have astonished him and falsified his predictions?"</p> + +<p>"I am not aware that I have done anything to astonish anybody. I fancied +that I had pleased Mr. Phipps rather than otherwise," said Bessie with a +quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"And so you have. He is gratified that a young lady of quality should +have the pluck to make a marriage of affection in a rank so far below +her own, considering nothing but the personal worth of the man she +marries."</p> + +<p>"I have never been able to discover the hard and fast conventional lines +that are supposed to separate ranks. There is an affectation in these +matters which practically deludes no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>body. A liberal education and the +refinements of wealth are too extensively diffused for those whose pride +it is that they have done nothing but vegetate on one spot of land for +generations to hold themselves aloof as a superior caste. The +pretensions of some of them are evident, but only evident to be +ridiculous—like the pretensions of those who, newly enriched by trade, +decline all but what they describe as carriage-company."</p> + +<p>"The poor gentry are eager enough to marry money, but that does not +prevent them sneering at the way the money is made," Miss Buff said. +"Even Lady Latimer herself, speaking of the family who have taken +Admiral Parkins's house for three months, said it was a pity they should +come to a place like Beechhurst, for the gentlefolk would not call upon +them, and they would feel themselves above associating with the +tradespeople. They are the great tea-dealers in Cheapside."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if they are not vulgar and ostentatious, Lady Latimer will soon +forget her prejudice against the tea."</p> + +<p>"And invite them to her garden-parties like the rest of us? No doubt she +will; she likes to know everybody. Then some connection with other +people of her acquaintance will come out, or she will learn that they +are influential with the charitable institutions by reason of their +handsome donations, or that they have an uncle high in the Church, or a +daughter married into the brewing interest. Oh, the ramifications of +society are infinite, and it is safest not to lay too much stress on the +tea to begin with."</p> + +<p>"Much the safest," Mr. Phipps, who had just come in, agreed. "The +tea-dealer is very rich, and money (we have Solomon's word for it) is a +defence. He is not aware of needing her ladyship's patronage. I expect, +Miss Fairfax, that, drifting up and down and to and fro in your +vicissitudes, you have found all classes much more alike than +different?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The refinements and vulgarities are the monopoly of no degree; +only I think the conceit of moral superiority is common to us all," said +Bessie, and she laughed.</p> + +<p>"And well it may be, since the axiom that <i>noblesse oblige</i> has fallen +into desuetude, and the word of a gentleman is no more to swear by than +a huckster's. Tom and Jerry's wives <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>go to court, and the arbitrary +edict of fashion constitutes the latest barbaric importation <i>bon ton</i> +for a season. I have been giving Harry Musgrave the benefit of my +wanderings in Italy thirty years ago, and he is so enchanted that you +will have to turn gypsy again next spring, Miss Fairfax."</p> + +<p>"It will suit me exactly—a mule or an ox-cart instead of the train, +byways for highways, and sauntering for speed. Did I not tell you long +ago, Mr. Phipps, that the gypsy wildness was in the Fairfax blood, and +that some day it would be my fate to travel ever so far and wide, and to +come home again browner than any berry?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, Miss Fairfax, the wisest seer is occasionally blind, and +you are that rare bird, a consistent woman. Knowing the great lady you +most admired, I feared for you some fatal act of imitation. But, thank +God! you have had grace given you to appreciate a simple-minded, lovable +fellow, who will take you out of conventional bonds, and help you to +bend your life round in a perfect circle. You are the happiest woman it +has been my lot to meet with."</p> + +<p>Bessie did not speak, but she looked up gratefully in the face of her +old friend.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h3> + +<h3><i>BESSIE'S LAST RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR.</i></h3> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie complained that he had less of his dear Bessie's company +than anybody else by reason of his own busy occupation, and one clear +September morning, when the air was wonderfully fresh and sweet after a +thunderstorm during the night, he asked her to come out for a last ride +with him before Harry Musgrave carried her away. Bessie donned her habit +and hat, and went gladly: the ride would serve as a leavetaking of some +of her friends in the cottages whom otherwise she might miss.</p> + +<p>In the village they met Miss Buff, going off to the school to hear the +Bible read and teach the Catechism—works of supererogation under the +new system, which Mr. Wiley had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span>thankfully remitted to her on account +of her popularity with parents and children.</p> + +<p>"Your duty to your neighbor and your duty to God and the ten +commandments—nothing else, because of the Dissenters," she explained in +a bustle. "Imagine the vulgarity of an education for the poor from which +the Bible may be omitted! Dreadful! I persuade the children to get +certain of the psalms, proverbs, and parables by heart out of school. +Bless you! they like that; but as for teaching them such abstract +knowledge as what an adverb or an isthmus is, or the height of Mont +Blanc, I defy you! And it is all fudge. Will they sweep a room or make +an apple-dumpling the better for it? Not they. But fix it in their minds +that whatever their hands find to do they must do it with their might, +and there is a chance that they will sweep into the corners and pare the +apples thin. But I have no time to spare, so good-bye, good-bye!"</p> + +<p>The general opinion of Beechhurst was with Miss Buff, who was making a +stand upon the ancient ways in opposition to the superior master of Lady +Latimer's selection, whose chief tendency was towards grammar, physical +geography, and advanced arithmetic, which told well in the inspector's +report. Miss Buff was strong also in the matter of needle, work and +knitting—she would even have had the boys knit—but here she had +sustained defeat.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie's first visit was to Mrs. Christie, who, since she had +recovered her normal state of health, had resumed her habit of drugging +and complaining. Her son was now at home, and when the doctor and Bessie +rode across the green to the wheelwright's house there was the artist at +work, with a companion under his white umbrella. His companion wore a +maize piqué dress and a crimson sash; a large leghorn hat, garnished +with poppies and wheat-ears, hid her face.</p> + +<p>"There is Miss Fairfax herself, Janey," whispered young Christie in an +encouraging tone. "Don't be afraid."</p> + +<p>Janey half raised her head and gazed at Bessie with shy, distrustful +eyes. Bessie, quite unconscious, reined in Miss Hoyden under the shadow +of a spreading tree to wait while the doctor paid his visit in-doors. +She perceived that there was a whispering between the two under the +white umbrella, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span>and with a pleasant recognition of the young man she +looked another way. After the lapse of a few minutes he approached her, +an unusual modest suffusion overspreading his pale face, and said, "Miss +Fairfax, there is somebody here you once knew. She is very timid, and +says she dares not claim your remembrance, because you must have thought +she had forgotten you."</p> + +<p>Bessie turned her head towards the diffident small personage who was +regarding her from the distance. "Is it Janey Fricker?" she asked with a +pleased, amused light in her face.</p> + +<p>"It is Janey Christie." In fact, the artist was now making his +wedding-tour, and Janey was his wife.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Bessie, "then this was why your portfolio was so full of +sketches at Yarmouth. I wish I had known before."</p> + +<p>Janey's face was one universal blush as she came forward and looked up +in Miss Fairfax's handsome, beneficent face. There had always been an +indulgent protectiveness in Bessie's manner to the master-mariner's +little daughter, and it came back quite naturally. Janey expected hasty +questions, perhaps reproaches, perhaps coldness, but none of these were +in Bessie's way. She had never felt herself ill used by Janey, and in +the joy of the sudden rencounter did not recollect that she had anything +to forgive. She said how she had lived in the hope of a meeting again +with Janey some day, and what a delightful thing it was to meet thus—to +find that her dear little comrade at school was married to Harry +Musgrave's best friend! Janey had heard from her husband all the story +of Bessie's faithful love, but she was too timid and self-doubting to be +very cordial or responsive. Bessie therefore talked for both—promised +herself a renewal of their early friendship, and expressed an hospitable +wish that Mr. Christie would bring his wife to visit them in Italy next +year when he took his holiday. Christie promised that he would, and +thought Miss Fairfax more than ever good and charming; but Janey was +almost happier when Bessie rode away with Mr. Carnegie and she was +permitted to retire into seclusion again under the white umbrella. The +artist had chosen him a helpmeet who could be very devoted in private +life, but who would never care for his professional honors or public +reputa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span>tion. Bessie heard afterward that the master-mariner was dead, +and the place in her heart that he had held was now her husband's. With +her own more expansive and affectionate nature she felt a genial warmth +of satisfaction in the meeting, and as she trotted along with the doctor +she told him about Janey at school, and thought herself most fortunate +to have been riding with him that morning.</p> + +<p>"For I really fear the little shy creature would never have come near me +had I not fallen in with her where she could not escape," said she.</p> + +<p>"Christie has been even less ambitious in his marriage than yourself, +Bessie," was the doctor's reply. "That one-idead little woman may +worship him, but she will be no help. She will not attract friends to +his house, even if she be not jealous of them; and he will have to go +out and leave her at home; and that is a pity, for an artist ought to +live in the world."</p> + +<p>"She is docile, but not trustful. Oh, he will tame her, and she will try +to please him," said Bessie cheerfully. "She fancied that I must have +forgotten her, when there was rarely a day that she did not come into my +mind. And she says the same of me, yet neither of us ever wrote or made +any effort to find the other out."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope that you have both contracted a more serviceable friendship +in another direction," said the doctor, and Bessie laughed. She was +aware that his estimate of feminine friendship was not exalted.</p> + +<p>About half a mile farther, where a byroad turned off towards Fairfield, +the riders came upon a remarkable group in high debate over a +donkey—Lady Latimer, Gampling the tinker, and the rural policeman. My +lady instantly summoned Mr. Carnegie to her succor in the fray, which, +to judge from her countenance and the stolid visage of the emissary of +the law, was obstinate. It appeared that the policeman claimed to arrest +the donkey and convey him to the pound. The dry and hungry beast had +been tethered by his master in the early morning where a hedge and +margin of sward bordered the domain of Admiral Parkins. Uninstructed in +modern law, he broke loose and strayed along the green, cropping here +and there a succulent shoot of thorn or thistle, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span>until, when +approaching repletion, he was surprised by the policeman, reprimanded, +captured, and led ignominiously towards the gaol for vagrant animals—a +donkey that everybody knew.</p> + +<p>"He's took the innicent ass into custody, and me he's going to summons +and get fined," Gampling exclaimed, his indignation not abated by the +appearance of another friend upon the scene, for a friend he still +counted the doctor, though he persisted in his refusal to mend his +kettles and pots and pans.</p> + +<p>"Is not this an excess of zeal, Cobb?" remonstrated Mr. Carnegie. +"Suppose you let the ass off this time, and consider him warned not to +do it again?"</p> + +<p>"Sir, my instructions is not to pass over any infringement of the new +h'act. Straying is to be put down," said Cobb stiffly.</p> + +<p>"This here ass have earned his living honest a matter of eight year, and +naught ever laid agen his character afore by high nor low," pleaded +Gampling, growing pathetic as authority grew more stern. "Her ladyship +and the doctor will speak a good word for him, and there's others as +will."</p> + +<p>"Afore the bench it may be of vally and go to lowering the fine," said +the invincible exponent of the law; "I ain't nothing to do with that."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you where it is, Cobb," urged Gampling, swelling into anger +again. "This here ass knows more o' nat'ral justice than the whole +boiling o' new h'acts. He'd never be the man to walk into her ladyship's +garden an' eat up her flowerbeds: raason why, he'd get a jolly good +hiding if he did. But he says to hisself, he says, when he sees a nice +bite o' clover or a sow-thistle by the roadside: "This here's what's +left for the poor, the fatherless, and the widder—it ain't much, but +thank God for small mercies!'—an' he falls to. Who's he robbed, I +should like to know?"</p> + +<p>"You must ask the admiral that when you come up before the magistrates +on Saturday," rejoined Cobb severely—his professional virtue sustained, +perhaps, by the presence of witnesses.</p> + +<p>Gampling besides being an itinerant tinker was also an itinerant +political preacher, and seeing that he could prevail <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span>nothing by secular +pleas, he betook himself to his spiritual armory, and in a voice of sour +derision that made Bessie Fairfax cringe asked the doctor if he had yet +received the Devil's Decalogue according to h'act of Parliament and +justices' notices that might be read on every wall?—and he proceeded to +recite it: "Thou shalt remove the old landmarks, and enter into the +fields of the poor. Thou shalt wholly reap the corners of thy fields and +gather the gleanings of thy harvest: thou shalt leave nothing for the +poor and the stranger. If a wayfarer that is a-hungered pluck the ears +of corn and eat, thou shalt hale him before the magistrates, and he +shall be cast into prison. Thou shalt turn away thy face from every poor +man, and if thy brother ask bread of thee, thou shalt give him neither +money nor food."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie made a gesture to silence the tinker, for he had thrown +himself into an oratorical attitude, and shouted out the new +commandments at the top of his voice, emphasizing each clause with his +right fist brought down each time more passionately on the palm of his +left hand. But his humor had grown savage, and with his eyes glowing +like hot coals in his blackened visage he went on, his tone rising to a +hoarse, hysteric yell: "Thou shalt oppress the poor, and forbid to teach +the gospel in the schools, lest they learn to cry unto their God, and He +hear them, and they turn again and rend thee."</p> + +<p>"What use is there in saying the thing that is not, Gampling?" demanded +Lady Latimer impetuously. "The Bible <i>is</i> read in our schools. And if +you workingmen take advantage of the privileges that you have won, you +ought to be strong enough, both in and out of Parliament, to prevent any +new act being made in violation of the spirit of either law or gospel."</p> + +<p>"I can't argy with your ladyship—it would be uncivil to say you talk +bosh," replied the tinker as suddenly despondent as he had been furious. +"I know that every year makes this world worse for poor honest folk to +live in, an' that there's more an' more h'acts to break one's shins +over. Who would ha' thowt as ever my old ass could arn me a fine an' +costs o' a summons by nibbling a mouthful o' green meat on the queen's +highway, God bless her! I've done."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span>My lady endeavored to make Gampling hear that she would pay his fine +(if fined he were), but he refused to listen, and went off, shaking his +head and bemoaning the hard pass the world was come to.</p> + +<p>"It is almost incredible the power of interference that is given to the +police," said Lady Latimer. "That wretched young Burt and his mother +were taken up by Cobb last week and made to walk to Hampton for lying on +the heath asleep in the sun; nothing else—that was their crime. +Fortunately, the magistrates had the humanity to discharge them."</p> + +<p>"Poor souls! they are stamped for vagabonds. But young Burt will not +trouble police or magistrates much longer now," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>In fact, he had that very morning done with troubling anybody. When Mr. +Carnegie pulled up ten minutes later at the door of a forlorn hovel +which was the present shelter of the once decent widow, he had no need +to dismount. "Ride on, Bessie," he said softly, and Bessie rode on. +Widow Burt came out to speak to the doctor, her lean face scorched to +the color of a brick, her clothing ragged, her hair unkempt, her eyes +wild as the eyes of a hunted animal.</p> + +<p>"He's gone, sir," she said, pointing in-doors to where a long, +motionless figure seated in a chair was covered with a ragged patchwork +quilt. The doctor nodded gravely, paused, asked if she were alone.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wallop sat up with us last night—she's very good, is Mrs. +Wallop—but first thing this morning Bunny came along to fetch her to +his wife, and she'd hardly got out o' sight when poor Tom stretched +hisself like a bairn that's waked up and is going to drop off to sleep +again, an' with one great sigh was dead. Miss Wort comes most mornings: +here she is."</p> + +<p>Yes, there was Miss Wort, plunging head foremost through the heather by +way of making a short cut. She saw at a glance what had happened, and +taking both the poor mother's hands in her own, she addressed the doctor +with tears in her eyes and tremulous anger in her voice: "I shall always +say that it is a bad and cruel thing to send boys to prison, or anybody +whose temptation is hunger. How can we tell what we should do ourselves? +We are not wiser than the Bible, and we are taught to pray God lest we +be poor and steal. Tom <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span>would never have come to be what he was but for +that dreadful month at Whitchester. Instead of shutting up village-boys +and hurting their health if they have done anything wrong, why can't +they be ordered to wear a fool's cap for a week, going about their +ordinary work? Our eyes would be on them, and they would not have a +chance of picking and stealing again; it would give us a little more +trouble at first, but not in the long run, and save taxes for prisons. +People would say, 'There goes a poor thief,' and they would be sorry for +him, and wonder why he did it; and we ought to look after our own +things. And then, if they turned out incorrigible, they might be shut up +or sent out of the way of temptation. Oh, if those who have the power +were only a little more considerate, and would learn to put themselves +in their place!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carnegie said that Miss Wort's queer suggestion was capable of +development, and there was too much sending of poor and young people to +prison for light offences—offences of ignorance often, for which a +reprimand and compensation would be enough. Bessie had never seen him +more saddened.</p> + +<p>Their next and last visit was to Littlemire. Mr. Moxon was in his +garden, working without his coat. He came forward, putting the +threadbare garment on, and begged Miss Fairfax to go up stairs and see +his wife. This was one of her good days, as she called the days when the +aching weariness of her perpetual confinement was a degree abated, and +she welcomed her visitor with a cry of plaintive joy, kissed her, gazed +at her fondly through glittering tears.</p> + +<p>Bessie did not know that she had been loved so much. Girl-like, she had +brought her tribute of flowers to the invalid's room, had wondered at +this half-paralyzed life that was surrounded by such an atmosphere of +peace; and when, during her last visit, she had realized what a +compensation for all sorrow was this peace, she had not yet understood +what an ardor of sympathy kept the poor sufferer's heart warm towards +those whose brighter lot had nothing in common with her own.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my love," she said in a sweet, thrilling voice, "dear Harry +Musgrave has been to tell me of his happiness. I am <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span>so glad for you +both—so very, very glad!" She did not pause to let Bessie respond, but +ran on with her recollections of Harry since he was a boy and came first +to read with her husband. "His thoughtfulness was really quite +beautiful; he never forgot to be kind. Oh, my dear, you may thoroughly +rely on his fine, affectionate temper. Rarely did he come to a lesson +without bringing me some message from his mother and little present in +his hand—a few flowers, a spring chicken, some nice fruit, a partridge. +This queer rustic scaffold for my books and work, Harry constructed it +himself, and I would not exchange it for the most elegant and ingenious +of whatnots. I could do nothing for him but listen to his long thoughts +and aspirations: that was when you were out of hearing, and he could +neither talk nor write to his dear little Bessie."</p> + +<p>"It was a great gap, but it did not make us strangers," said Bessie.</p> + +<p>"When he went to Oxford he sent us word of his arrival, and how he liked +his college and his tutor—matters that were as interesting to us as if +he had been our own. And when he found how welcome his letters were, he +wrote to Mr. Moxon often, and sent him any report or pamphlet that he +thought might please him; and several times he gave himself the trouble +both at the Bodleian and in London to search for and copy out extracts +from works that Mr. Moxon wanted and had no means of procuring here. You +can have no idea how helpful he has been to my husband in such things. +Poor fellow! what a grief it was to us that term he had to stay away +from Oxford on account of his health! Already we began to fear for the +future, but his buoyant spirit would not anticipate any permanent +hindrance to his progress; and that check did make him more prudent. But +it is not to be; he sees himself cut short of the career where he +planned to be famous; he gives way, however, to neither anger nor +repining. Oh, my love! that I could win you to believe that if you clasp +this cross to your heart, as the gift of Him who cannot err, you will +never feel it a burden!"</p> + +<p>Bessie smiled. She did not feel it a burden now, and Harry was not +abandoned to carry its weight alone. She did not speak: she was not apt +at the expression of her religious feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span>ings, but they were sincere as +far as life had taught her. She could have lent her ears for a long +while to Harry Musgrave's praises without growing weary, but the vicar +now appeared, followed by the doctor, talking in a high, cheerful voice +of that discovery he had made of a remarkable mathematical genius in +Littlemire: "A most practical fellow, a wonderful hard head—will turn +out an enterprising engineer, an inventor, perhaps; has the patience of +Job himself, and an infinite genius for taking pains."</p> + +<p>Bessie recollected rather pathetically having once heard the sanguine, +good vicar use very similar terms in speaking of her beloved Harry.</p> + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h3> + +<h3><i>FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE.</i></h3> + +<p>Towards the end of September, Harry Musgrave and Bessie Fairfax were +married. Lady Latimer protested against this conclusion by her absence, +but she permitted Dora Meadows to go to the church to look on. The +wedding differed but very little from other weddings. Harry Musgrave was +attended by his friend Forsyth, and Polly and Totty Carnegie were the +bridesmaids. Mr. Moxon married the young couple, and Mr. Carnegie gave +the bride away. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was present, and the occasion was +further embellished by little Christie and Janey in their recent wedding +garments, and by Miss Buff and Mr. Phipps, whose cheerful appearance in +company gave rise to some ingenious prophetic remarks. The village folks +pronounced the newly-wedded pair to be the handsomest they had seen +married at Beechhurst church for many a long year, and perhaps it was +lucky that Lady Latimer stayed away, for there was nothing in Mr. Harry +Musgrave's air or countenance to cheat her into commiseration.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth looked lovely—so beautifully happy," Dora Meadows reported. +"And Mr. Harry Musgrave went through the ceremony with composure: Miss +Buff said he was as cool as a cucumber. I should think he is a +faithless, unsentimental sort of person, Aunt Olympia."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span>"Indeed! because he was composed?" inquired my lady coldly.</p> + +<p>Dora found it easier to express an opinion than to give her reasons for +it: all that Aunt Olympia could gather from her rather incoherent +attempts at explanation was that Mr. Harry Musgrave had possibly feigned +to be worse than he was until he had made sure of Elizabeth's tender +heart, for he appeared to be in very good case, both as to health and +spirits.</p> + +<p>"He might have died for Elizabeth if she had not loved him; and whatever +he is or is not, he most assuredly would never voluntarily have given up +the chances of an honorable career for the sake of living in idleness +even with Elizabeth. You talk nonsense, Dora. There may be persons as +foolish and contemptible as you suppose, but Elizabeth has more wit than +to have set her affections on such a one." Poor Dora was silenced. My +lady was peremptory and decisive, as usual. When Dora had duly repented +of her silly suggestion, Aunt Olympia's natural curiosity to hear +everything prevailed over her momentary caprice of ill-humor, and she +was permitted to recite the wedding in all its details—even to Mrs. +Musgrave's silk gown and the pretty little bridesmaids' dresses. The +bridegroom only she prudently omitted, and was sarcastically rebuked for +the omission by and by with the query, "And the bridegroom was nowhere, +then?"</p> + +<p>The bells broke out several times in the course of the day, and the +event served for a week's talk after it was over. The projected +yacht-voyage had been given up, and the young people travelled in all +simplicity, with very little baggage and no attendant except Mrs. Betts. +They went through Normandy until they came to Bayeux, where Madame +Fournier was spending the long vacation at the house of her brother the +canon, as her custom was. In the twilight of a hot autumnal evening they +went to call upon her. Lancelot's watering-can had diffused its final +shower, and the oleanders and pomegranates, grateful for the refreshing +coolness, were giving out their most delicious odors. The canon and +madame were sipping their <i>café noir</i> after dinner, seated in the +verandah towards the garden, and Madame Babette, the toil of the day +over, was dozing and reposing under the bowery sweet clematis at the end +by her own domain.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span>The elderly people welcomed their young visitors with hospitable +warmth. Two more chairs were brought out and two cups of <i>café noir</i>, +and the visit was prolonged into the warm harvest moonlight with news of +friends and acquaintances. Bessie heard that the venerable <i>curé</i> of St. +Jean's still presided over his flock at Caen, and occupied the chintz +edifice like a shower-bath which was the school-confessional. Miss +Foster was married to a <i>brave fermier</i>, and Bessie was assured that she +would not recognize that depressed and neuralgic <i>demoiselle</i> in the +stout and prosperous <i>fermière</i> she had developed into. Mdlle. Adelaide +was also married; and Louise, that pretty portress, in spite of the +raids of the conscription amongst the young men of her <i>pays</i>, had found +a shrewd young innkeeper, the only son of a widow, who was so wishful to +convert her into madame at the sign of the Croix Rouge that she had +consented, and now another Louise, also very pretty, took cautious +observation of visitors before admission through the little trap of the +wicket in the Rue St. Jean.</p> + +<p>Then Madame Fournier inquired with respectful interest concerning her +distinguished pupil, Madame Chiverton, of whose splendid marriage in +Paris a report had reached her through her nephew. Was Monsieur +Chiverton so very rich? was he so very old and ugly? was he good to his +beautiful wife? Monsieur Chiverton, Bessie believed, was perfectly +devoted and submissive to his wife—he was not handsome nor youthful—he +had great estates and held a conspicuous position. Madame replied with +an air of satisfaction that proud Miss Ada would be in her element then, +for she was born to be a grand lady, and her own family was so poor that +she was utterly without <i>dot</i>—else, added madame with some mystery, she +might have found a <i>parti</i> in the imperial court: there had been a brave +marshal who was also duke. Here the amiable old lady checked herself, +and said with kind reassurance to the unambitious Bessie, "But, <i>ma +chèrie</i>, you have chosen well for your happiness. Your Harry is +excellent; you have both such gayety of heart, like <i>us</i>—not like the +English, who are <i>si maussade</i> often."</p> + +<p>Bessie would not allow that the English are <i>maussade</i>, but madame +refused to believe herself mistaken.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>Mr. and Mrs. Harry Musgrave still carry their gayety of heart wherever +they go. They are not fashionable people, but people like to know them. +They have adopted Italy for their country, and are most at home in +Florence, but they do not find their other home in England too far off +for frequent visits.</p> + +<p>They are still only two, and move about often and easily, and see more +than most travellers do, for they charter queer private conveyances for +themselves, and leave the beaten ways for devious paths that look +attractive and often turn out great successes. It was during one of +these excursions—an excursion into the Brianza—that they not long ago +fell in with a large party of old friends from England, come together +fortuitously at Bellagio. Descending early in the evening from the +luxuriant hills across which they had been driving through a long green +June day, they halted at the hospitable open gate of the Villa Giulia. +There was a pony-carriage at the door, and another carriage just moving +off after the discharge of its freight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aunt Olympia, look here! Mr. Harry Musgrave and Elizabeth!" cried a +happy voice, and there, behold! were my Lady Latimer and Dora—Lady +Lucas now—and Sir Edward; and turning back to see and asking, "Who? +who?" came Mr. Oliver Smith and his sisters, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and +his dear Julia.</p> + +<p>To Bessie it was a delightful encounter, and Harry Musgrave, if his +enthusiasm was not quite so eager, certainly enjoyed it as much, for his +disposition was always sociable. My lady, after a warm embrace and six +words to Elizabeth, said, "You will dine with me—we are all dining +together this evening;" and she communicated her commands to one of the +attendants. It was exactly as at home: my lady took the lead, and +everybody was under her orders. Bessie liked it for old custom's sake; +Mrs. Cecil Burleigh stood a little at a loss, and asked, "What are we to +do?"</p> + +<p>The Cecil Burleighs were not staying at the Villa Giulia—they were at +another hotel on the hill above—and the Lucases, abroad on their +wedding-tour, were at a villa on the edge of the lake. They had been +making a picnic with Lady Latimer and her party that day, and were just +returning when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span>the young Musgraves appeared. The dinner was served in a +room looking upon the garden, and afterward the company walked out upon +the terraces, fell into groups and exchanged news. My lady had already +enjoyed long conversations with Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Sir Edward Lucas, +and she now took Mr. Harry Musgrave to talk to. Harry slipped his hand +within his wife's arm to make her a third in the chat, but as it was +information on Roman politics and social reforms my lady chiefly wanted, +Bessie presently released herself and joined the wistful Dora, who was +longing to give her a brief history of her own wooing and wedding. +Before the tale was told Sir Edward joined them in the rose-bower +whither they had retreated, and contributed some general news from +Norminster and Abbotsmead and the neighborhood. Lady Angleby had adopted +another niece for spaniel, <i>vice</i> Mrs Forbes promoted to Kirkham +vicarage, and her favorite clergyman, Mr. Jones, had been made rural +dean; Mrs Stokes had a little girl; Mrs. Chiverton was carrying on a +hundred beneficent projects to the Woldshire world's wonder and +admiration: she had even prevailed against Morte.</p> + +<p>"And I believe she would have prevailed had poor Gifford lived; she is a +most energetic woman," Sir Edward said. Bessie looked up inquiringly. +"Mr. Gifford died of malignant fever last autumn," Sir Edward told her. +"He went to Morte in pursuit of some incorrigible poacher when fever was +raging there, and took it in its most virulent form; his death proved an +irresistible argument against the place, and Blagg made a virtue of +necessity and razed his hovels."</p> + +<p>Bessie heard further that her uncle Laurence Fairfax had announced the +principle that it is unwise for landowners to expect a direct profit +from the cottages and gardens of their laboring tenants, and was putting +it into practice on the Kirkham estates, to the great comfort and +advantage of his dependants.</p> + +<p>"My Edward began it," whispered Dora, not satisfied that her husband +should lose the honor that to him belonged.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Bessie, "I remember what sensible, kind views he always took +of his duties and responsibilities."</p> + + +<p>"And another thing he has done," continued the little lady. "While other +men are enclosing every waste roadside scrap <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span>they dare, he has thrown +open again a large meadow by the river which once upon a time was free +to the villagers on the payment of a shilling a head for each cow turned +out upon it. The gardens to the new cottages are planted with fruit +trees, and you cannot think what interest is added to the people's lives +when they have to attend to what is pleasant and profitable for +themselves. It cannot be a happy feeling to be always toiling for a +master and never for one's own. There! Edward has taken himself off, so +I may tell you that there never was anybody so good as he is, so +generous and considerate."</p> + +<p>Dora evidently regarded her spouse with serious, old-fashioned devotion +and honor. Bessie smiled. She could have borne an equal tribute to her +dear Harry, and probably if Mrs. Cecil Burleigh had been as effusive as +these young folks, she might have done the same; for while they talked +in the rose-bower Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his wife came by, she leaning +on his arm and looking up and listening as to the words of an oracle.</p> + +<p>"Is she not sweet? What a pity it would have been had those two not +married!" said Dora softly, and they passed out of sight.</p> + +<p>"Come out and see the roses," Lady Latimer said to Elizabeth through the +window early next morning. "They are beautiful with the dew upon them."</p> + +<p>Harry Musgrave and his wife were at breakfast, with a good deal of +litter about the room. Botanical and other specimens were on the +window-sill, on the table was a sheaf of popular Italian street-songs +collected in various cities, and numerous loose leaves of manuscript. +Harry had decided that Bellagio was a pleasant spot to rest in for a +week or so, and Bessie had produced their work in divers kinds. They +were going to have a delightful quiet morning of it, when my lady tapped +on the glass and invited Elizabeth out to admire the roses.</p> + +<p>"Don't stay away long," whispered Harry to his wife, rising to pay his +compliments.</p> + +<p>He did not reseat himself to enjoy his tranquil labors for nearly an +hour, and Bessie stood in her cool white dress like a statue of +Patience, hearing Lady Latimer discourse until <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span>the sun had evaporated +the dew from the roses. Then Miss Juliana and Miss Charlotte appeared, +returning from a stroll beyond the bounds of the garden, and announced +that the day was growing very hot. "Yes, it is almost too hot to walk +now; but will you come to my room, Elizabeth? I have some photographs +that I am sure would interest you," urged my lady. She seemed surprised +and displeased when Harry entreated comically that his wife might not be +taken away, waving his hand to the numerous tasks that awaited them.</p> + +<p>"We also have photographs: let us compare them in the drowsy hours of +afternoon," said he; and when Bessie offered to hush his odd speeches, +he boldly averred that she was indispensable: "She has allowed me to get +into the bad habit of not being able to work without her."</p> + +<p>My lady could only take her leave with a hope that they would be at +leisure later in the day, and was soon after seen to foregather with an +American gentleman as ardent in the pursuit of knowledge as herself. +Afterward she found her way to the village school, and had an +instructive interview with an old priest; and on the way back to the +Villa Giulia, falling in with a very poor woman and two barefooted +little boys, her children, she administered charitable relief and earned +many heartfelt blessings. The review of photographs took place in the +afternoon, as Harry suggested, and in the cool of the evening, after the +<i>table d'hôte</i>, they had a boat on the lake and paid the Lucases a visit +before their departure for Como. Then they sauntered home to their inn +by narrow, circuitous lanes between walled gardens—steep, stony lanes +where, by and by, they came upon an iron gate standing open for the +convenience of a man who was busy within amongst the graves, for this +was the little cemetery of Bellagio. It had its grand ponderosity in +stone and marble sacred to the memory of noble dust, and a throng of +poor iron crosses, leaning this way and that amidst the unkempt, tall +grasses.</p> + +<p>Lady Latimer walked in; Harry Musgrave and Bessie waited outside. My +lady had many questions to ask of the gardener about the tenants of the +vaults beneath the huge monuments, and many inscriptions upon the wall +to read—pathetic, quaint, or fulsome. At length she turned to rejoin +her companions. They were gazing through a locked grate <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span>into a tiny +garden where were two graves only—a verdant little spot over which the +roses hung in clouds of beauty and fragrance. An inscription on a slab +sunk in the wall stated that this piece of ground was given for a +burial-place to his country-people by an Englishman who had there buried +his only son. The other denizen of the narrow plat was Dorothea Fairfax, +at whose head and feet were white marble stones, the sculpture on them +as distinct as yesterday. Bessie turned away with tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said my lady sharply, and peered through the grate. Harry +Musgrave had walked on. When Lady Latimer looked round her face was +stern and cold, and the pleasant light had gone out of it. Without +meeting Elizabeth's glance she spoke: "The dead are always in the right; +the living always in the wrong. I had forgotten it was at Bellagio that +Dorothy died. Has Oliver seen it, I wonder? I must tell him." Yes, +Oliver had been there with his other sisters in the morning: they had +not forgotten, but they hoped that dear Olympia's steps would not wander +round by that way.</p> + +<p>However, my lady made no further sign except by her unwonted silence. +She left the Villa Giulia the following day with all her party, her last +words to Elizabeth being, "You will let me know when you are coming to +England, and I will be at Fairfield. I would not miss seeing you: it +seems to me that we belong to one another in some fashion. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Bessie went back to Harry over his work rather saddened. "I do love Lady +Latimer, Harry—her very faults and her foibles," she said. "I must have +it by inheritance."</p> + +<p>"If you had expressed a wish, perhaps she would not have gone so +suddenly. She appears to have no object in life but to serve other +people even while she rules them. Don't look so melancholy: she is not +unhappy—she is not to be pitied."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Harry! Not unhappy, and so lonely!"</p> + +<p>"My dear child, all the world is lonely more or less—she more, we less. +But doing all the good she can—and so much good—she must have many +hours of pure and high satisfaction. I am glad we have met."</p> + +<p>And Bessie was glad. These chance meetings so far away <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span>gave her sweet +intervals of reverie about friends at home. She kept her tender heart +for them, but had never a regret that she had left them all for Harry +Musgrave's sake. She sat musing with lovely pensive face. Harry looked +up from his work again. The sky was heavenly serene, there was a cool +air stirring, and slow moving shadows of cloud were upon the lake.</p> + +<p>"I am tired of these songs just now," said Harry, rising and stepping +over to the window where his wife sat. "This is a day to find out +something new: let us go down the garden to the landing and take a boat. +We will ask for a roll or two of bread and some wine, and we can stay as +late as we please."</p> + +<p>Bessie came out of her dream and did his bidding with a grace. And that +was the day's diversion.</p> + +<p class='center'>THE END.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="ADVERTISEMENTS" id="ADVERTISEMENTS"></a>ADVERTISEMENTS.</h2> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span></p> +<h3>Standard and Popular Books</h3> + +<p class='center'>PUBLISHED BY</p> + +<h3>Porter & Coates, Philadelphia Pa.</h3> + + +<p>WAVERLEY NOVELS. By <span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott.</span></p> + +<p> +*Waverley.<br /> +*Guy Mannering.<br /> +The Antiquary.<br /> +Rob Roy.<br /> +Black Dwarf; and Old Mortality.<br /> +The Heart of Mid-Lothian.<br /> +The Bride of Lammermoor; and A<br /> +Legend of Montrose.<br /> +*Ivanhoe.<br /> +The Monastery.<br /> +The Abbott.<br /> +Kenilworth.<br /> +The Pirate.<br /> +The Fortunes of Nigel.<br /> +Peveril of the Peak.<br /> +Quentin Durward.<br /> +St. Ronan's Well.<br /> +Redgauntlet.<br /> +The Betrothed; and The Talisman.<br /> +Woodstock.<br /> +The Fair Maid of Perth.<br /> +Anne of Geierstein.<br /> +Count Robert of Paris; and Castle<br /> +Dangerous.<br /> +Chronicles of the Canongate.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Household Edition. 23 vols. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, per vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50; half calf, +gilt, marbled edges, per vol., $3.00. Sold separately in cloth binding +only.</p> + +<p>Universe Edition. 25 vols. Printed on thin paper, and containing one +illustration to the volume. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per +vol., 75 cts.</p> + +<p>World Edition. 12 vols. Thick 12mo. (Sold in sets only.) Cloth, extra, +black and gold, $18.00; half imt. Russia, marbled edges, $24.00.</p> + +<p>This is the best edition for the library or for general use published. +Its convenient size, the extreme legibility of the type, which is larger +than is used in any other 12mo edition, either English or American.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>TALES OF A GRANDFATHER. By <span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott</span>, Bart. 4 vols. +Uniform with the Waverley Novels.</p> + +<p>Household Edition. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per +vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50; half calf, gilt, +marbled edges, per vol., $3.00.</p> + +<p>This edition contains the Fourth Series—Tales from French history—and +is the only complete edition published in this country.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span>CHARLES DICKENS' COMPLETE WORKS. Author's Edition. 14 vols., with a +portrait of the author on steel, and eight illustrations by F.O.C. +Darley, Cruikshank, Fildes, Eytinge, and others, in each volume. 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per +vol., $1.50; half imt. Russia, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50: half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, per vol., $2.75.</p> + +<p> +*Pickwick Papers.<br /> +*Oliver Twist, Pictures of Italy, and American Notes.<br /> +*Nicholas Nickleby.<br /> +Old Curiosity Shop, and Reprinted Pieces.<br /> +Barnaby Rudge, and Hard Times.<br /> +*Martin Chuzzlewit.<br /> +Dombey and Son.<br /> +*David Copperfield.<br /> +Christmas Books, Uncommercial Traveller, and Additional Christmas Stories.<br /> +Bleak House.<br /> +Little Dorrit.<br /> +Tale of Two Cities, and Great Expectations.<br /> +Our Mutual Friend.<br /> +Edwin Drood, Sketches, Master Humphrey's Clock, etc., etc.<br /> +</p> + +<p>Sold separately in cloth binding only.</p> + +<p>*Also in Alta Edition, one illustration, 75 cents.</p> + +<p>The same. Universe Edition. Printed on thin paper and containing one +illustration to the volume. 14 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, per vol., 75 cents.</p> + +<p>The same. World Edition. 7 vols., thick 12mo., $12.25. (Sold in sets +only.)</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By <span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span>. Popular 12mo. +edition; from new electrotype plates. Large clear type. Beautifully +illustrated with 8 engravings on wood. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $1.00.</p> + +<p>Alta Edition. One illustration, 75 cents.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dickens as a novelist and prose poet is to be classed in the front +rank of the noble company to which he belongs. He has revived the +novel of genuine practical life, as it existed in the works of +Fielding, Smollett, and Goldsmith; but at the same time has given +to his material an individual coloring and expression peculiarly +his own. His characters, like those of his great exemplars, +constitute a world of their own, whose truth to nature every reader +instinctively recognizes in connection with their truth to +darkness."—<i>E.P. Whipple</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>MACAULAY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the accession of James II. By +<span class="smcap">Thomas Babington Macaulay</span>. With a steel portrait of the author. +Printed from new electrotype plates from the last English Edition. Being +by far the most correct edition in the American market. 5 volumes, 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, marbled edges, per +set, $7.50; half imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled +edges, per set, $15.00.</p> + +<p>Popular Edition. 5 vols., cloth, plain, $5.00.</p> + +<p>8vo. Edition. 5 volumes in one, with portrait. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $3.00; sheep, marbled edges, $3.50.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>MARTINEAU'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the beginning of the 19th Century +to the Crimean War. By <span class="smcap">Harriet Martineau</span>. Complete in 4 vols., +with full Index. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.00; sheep, +marbled edges, $6.00; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $12.00.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>HUME'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the invasion of Julius Cæsar to the +abdication of James II, 1688. By <span class="smcap">David Hume</span>. Standard Edition. +With the author's last corrections and improvements; to which is +prefixed a short account of his life, written by himself. With a +portrait on steel. A new edition from entirely new stereotype plates. 5 +vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, +marbled edges, per set, $7.50; half imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, +gilt, marbled edges, per set, $15.00.</p> + +<p>Popular Edition. 5 vols. Cloth, plain, $5.00.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>GIBBON'S DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE. By <span class="smcap">Edward +Gibbon</span>. With Notes, by Rev. H.H. <span class="smcap">Milman</span>. Standard Edition. +To which is added a complete Index of the work. A new edition from +entirely new stereotype plates. With portrait on steel. 5 vols., 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, marbled edges, per +set, $7.50; half imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled +edges, per set, $15.00.</p> + +<p>Popular Edition. 5 vols. Cloth, plain, $5.00.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>ENGLAND, PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. By <span class="smcap">Joel Cook</span>, author of +"A Holiday Tour in Europe," etc. With 487 finely engraved illustrations, +descriptive of the most famous and attractive places, as well as of the +historic scenes and rural life of England and Wales. With Mr. Cook's +admirable descriptions of the places and the country, and the splendid +illustrations, this is the most valuable and attractive book of the +season, and the sale will doubtless be very large. 4to. Cloth, extra, +gilt side and edges, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $10.00; half +morocco, full gilt edges, $10.00; full Turkey morocco, gilt edges, +$15.00; tree calf, gilt edges, $18.00.</p> + +<blockquote><p>This work, which is prepared in elegant style, and profusely +illustrated, is a comprehensive description of England and Wales, +arranged in convenient form for the tourist, and at the same time +providing an illustrated guide-book to a country which Americans +always view with interest. There are few satisfactory works about +this land which is so generously gifted by Nature and so full of +memorials of the past. Such books as there are, either cover a few +counties or are devoted to special localities, or are merely +guide-books. The present work is believed to be the first attempt +to give in attractive form a description of the stately homes, +renowned castles, ivy-clad ruins of abbeys, churches, and ancient +fortresses, delicious scenery, rock-bound coasts, and celebrated +places of England and Wales. It is written by an author fully +competent from travel and reading, and in position to properly +describe his very interesting subject; and the artist's pencil has +been called into requisition to graphically illustrate its +well-written pages. There are 487 illustrations, prepared in the +highest style of the engraver's art, while the book itself is one +of the most attractive ever presented to the American public.</p> + +<p>Its method of construction is systematic, following the most +convenient routes taken by tourists, and the letter-press includes +enough of the history and legend of each of the places described to +make the story highly interesting. Its pages fairly overflow with +picture and description, telling of everything attractive that is +presented by England and Wales. Executed in the highest style of +the printer's and engraver's art, "England, Picturesque and +Descriptive," is one of the best American books of the year.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span>HISTORY OF THE CIVIL WAR IN AMERICA. By the <span class="smcap">Comte De Paris</span>. +With Maps faithfully Engraved from the Originals, and Printed in Three +Colors. 8vo. Cloth, per volume, $3.50; red cloth, extra, Roxburgh style, +uncut edges, $3.50; sheep, library style, $4.50; half Turkey morocco, +$6.00. Vols. I, II, and III now ready.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The third volume embraces, without abridgment, the fifth and sixth +volumes of the French edition, and covers one of the most +interesting as well as the most anxious periods of the war, +describing the operations of the Army of the Potomac in the East, +and the Army of the Cumberland and Tennessee in the West.</p> + +<p>It contains full accounts of the battle of Chancellorsville, the +attack of the monitors on Fort Sumter, the sieges and fall of +Vicksburg and Port Hudson; the battles of Port Gibson and +Champion's Hill, and the fullest and most authentic account of the +battle of Gettysburg ever written.</p> + +<p>"The head of the Orleans family has put pen to paper with excellent +result.... Our present impression is that it will form by far the +best history of the American war."—<i>Athenæum, London</i>.</p> + +<p>"We advise all Americans to read it carefully, and judge for +themselves if 'the future historian of our war,' of whom we have +heard so much, be not already arrived in the Comte de +Paris."—<i>Nation, New York</i>.</p> + +<p>"This is incomparably the best account of our great second +revolution that has yet been even attempted. It is so calm, so +dispassionate, so accurate in detail, and at the same time so +philosophical in general, that its reader counts confidently on +finding the complete work thoroughly satisfactory."—<i>Evening +Bulletin, Philadelphia</i>.</p> + +<p>"The work expresses the calm, deliberate judgment of an experienced +military observer and a highly intelligent man. Many of its +statements will excite discussion, but we much mistake if it does +not take high and permanent rank among the standard histories of +the civil war. Indeed that place has been assigned it by the most +competent critics both of this country and abroad."—<i>Times, +Cincinnati</i>.</p> + +<p>"Messrs. Porter & Coates, of Philadelphia, will publish in a few +days the authorized translation of the new volume of the Comte de +Paris' History of Our Civil War. The two volumes in French—the +fifth and sixth—are bound together in the translation in one +volume. Our readers already know, through a table of contents of +these volumes, published in the cable columns of the <i>Herald</i>, the +period covered by this new installment of a work remarkable in +several ways. It includes the most important and decisive period of +the war, and the two great campaigns of Gettysburg and Vicksburg.</p> + +<p>"The great civil war has had no better, no abler historian than the +French prince who, emulating the example of Lafayette, took part in +this new struggle for freedom, and who now writes of events, in +many of which he participated, as an accomplished officer, and one +who, by his independent position, his high character and eminent +talents, was placed in circumstances and relations which gave him +almost unequalled opportunities to gain correct information and +form impartial judgments.</p> + +<p>"The new installment of a work which has already become a classic +will be read with increased interest by Americans because of the +importance of the period it covers and the stirring events it +describes. In advance of a careful review we present to-day some +extracts from the advance sheets sent us by Messrs. Porter & +Coates, which will give our readers a foretaste of chapters which +bring back to memory so many half-forgotten and not a few hitherto +unvalued details of a time which Americans of this generation at +least cannot read of without a fresh thrill of excitement."</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>HALF-HOURS WITH THE BEST AUTHORS. With short Biographical and Critical +Notes. By <span class="smcap">Charles Knight</span>.</p> + +<p>New Household Edition. With six portraits on steel. 3 vols., thick 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.50; half imt. Russia, marbled +edges, $6.00; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $12.00.</p> + +<p>Library Edition. Printed on fine laid and tinted paper. With twenty-four +portraits on steel. 6 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, per set, $7.50; half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, per set, $18.00; half Russia, gilt top, +$21.00; full French morocco, limp, per set, $12.00; full smooth Russia, +limp, round corners, in Russia case, per set, $25.00; full seal grained +Russia, limp, round corners, in Russia case to match, $25.00.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The excellent idea of the editor of these choice volumes has been +most admirably carried out, as will be seen by the list of authors +upon all subjects. Selecting some choice passages of the best +standard authors, each of sufficient length to occupy half an hour +in its perusal, there is here food for thought for every day in the +year: so that if the purchaser will devote but one-half hour each +day to its appropriate selection he will read through these six +volumes in one year, and in such a leisurely manner that the +noblest thoughts of many of the greatest minds will be firmly in +his mind forever. For every Sunday there is a suitable selection +from some of the most eminent writers in sacred literature. We +venture to say if the editor's idea is carried out the reader will +possess more and better knowledge of the English classics at the +end of the year than he would by five years of desultory reading.</p> + +<p>They can be commenced at any day in the year. The variety of +reading is so great that no one will ever tire of these volumes. It +is a library in itself.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE POETRY OF OTHER LANDS. A Collection of Translations into English +Verse of the Poetry of Other Languages, Ancient and Modern. Compiled by +<span class="smcap">N. Clemmons Hunt</span>. Containing translations from the Greek, +Latin, Persian, Arabian, Japanese, Turkish, Servian, Russian, Bohemian, +Polish, Dutch, German, Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese +languages. 12mo. Cloth, extra, gilt edges, $2.50; half calf, gilt, +marbled edges, $4.00; Turkey morocco, gilt edges, $6.00.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Another of the publications of Porter & Coates, called 'The Poetry +of Other Lands,' compiled by N. Clemmons Hunt, we most warmly +commend. It is one of the best collections we have seen, containing +many exquisite poems and fragments of verse which have not before +been put into book form in English words. We find many of the old +favorites, which appear in every well-selected collection of +sonnets and songs, and we miss others, which seem a necessity to +complete the bouquet of grasses and flowers, some of which, from +time to time, we hope to republish in the 'Courier.'"—<i>Cincinnati +Courier</i>.</p> + +<p>"A book of rare excellence, because it gives a collection of choice +gems in many languages not available to the general lover of +poetry. It contains translations from the Greek, Latin, Persian, +Arabian, Japanese, Turkish, Servian, Russian, Bohemian, Polish, +Dutch, German, Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese languages. +The book will be an admirable companion volume to any one of the +collections of English poetry that are now published. With the full +index of authors immediately preceding the collection, and the +arrangement of the poems under headings, the reader will find it +convenient for reference. It is a gift that will be more valued by +very many than some of the transitory ones at these holiday +times."—<i>Philadelphia Methodist</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>THE FIRESIDE ENCYCLOPÆDIA OF POETRY. Edited by <span class="smcap">Henry T. +Coates</span>. This is the latest, and beyond doubt the best collection of +poetry published. Printed on fine paper and illustrated with thirteen +steel engravings and fifteen title pages, containing portraits of +prominent American poets and fac-similes of their handwriting, made +expressly for this book. 8vo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, gilt edges, +$5.00; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $7.50; half morocco, full gilt +edges, $7.50; full Turkey morocco, gilt edges, $10.00; tree calf, gilt +edges, $12.00; plush, padded side, nickel lettering, $14.00.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The editor shows a wide acquaintance with the most precious +treasures of English verse, and has gathered the most admirable +specimens of their ample wealth. Many pieces which have been passed +by in previous collections hold a place of honor in the present +volume, and will be heartily welcomed by the lovers of poetry as a +delightful addition to their sources of enjoyment. It is a volume +rich in solace, in entertainment, in inspiration, of which the +possession may well be coveted by every lover of poetry. The +pictorial illustrations of the work are in keeping with its +poetical contents, and the beauty of the typographical execution +entitles it to a place among the choicest ornaments of the +library."—<i>New York Tribune</i>.</p> + +<p>"Lovers of good poetry will find this one of the richest +collections ever made. All the best singers in our language are +represented, and the selections are generally those which reveal +their highest qualities.... The lights and shades, the finer play +of thought and imagination belonging to individual authors, are +brought out in this way (by the arrangement of poems under +subject-headings) as they would not be under any other system.... +We are deeply impressed with the keen appreciation of poetical +worth, and also with the good taste manifested by the +compiler."—<i>Churchman</i>.</p> + +<p>"Cyclopædias of poetry are numerous, but for sterling value of its +contents for the library, or as a book of reference, no work of the +kind will compare with this admirable volume of Mr. Coates. It +takes the gems from many volumes, culling with rare skill and +judgment."—<i>Chicago Inter-Ocean</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE CHILDREN'S BOOK OF POETRY. Compiled by <span class="smcap">Henry T. Coates</span>. +Containing over 500 poems carefully selected from the works of the best +and most popular writers for children; with nearly 200 illustrations. +The most complete collection of poetry for children ever published. 4to. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, gilt side and edges, $3.00; full Turkey +morocco, gilt edges, $7.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"This seems to us the best book of poetry for children in +existence. We have examined many other collections, but we cannot +name another that deserves to be compared with this admirable +compilation."—<i>Worcester Spy</i>.</p> + +<p>"The special value of the book lies in the fact that it nearly or +quite covers the entire field. There is not a great deal of good +poetry which has been written for children that cannot be found in +this book. The collection is particularly strong in ballads and +tales, which are apt to interest children more than poems of other +kinds; and Mr. Coates has shown good judgment in supplementing this +department with some of the best poems of that class that have been +written for grown people. A surer method of forming the taste of +children for good and pure literature than by reading to them from +any portion of this book can hardly be imagined. The volume is +richly illustrated and beautifully bound."—<i>Philadelphia Evening +Bulletin</i>.</p> + +<p>"A more excellent volume cannot be found. We have found within the +covers of this handsome volume, and upon its fair pages, many of +the most exquisite poems which our language contains. It must +become a standard volume, and can never grow old or +obsolete."—<i>Episcopal Recorder</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span>THE COMPLETE WORKS OF THOS. HOOD. With engravings on steel. 4 vols., +12mo., tinted paper. Poetical Works; Up the Rhine; Miscellanies and +Hood's Own; Whimsicalities, Whims, and Oddities. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $6.00; red cloth, paper label, gilt top, uncut edges, $6.00; half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, $14.00; half Russia, gilt top, $18.00.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Hood's verse, whether serious or comic—whether serene like a +cloudless autumn evening or sparkling with puns like a frosty +January midnight with stars—was ever pregnant with materials for +the thought. Like every author distinguished for true comic humor, +there was a deep vein of melancholy pathos running through his +mirth, and even when his sun shone brightly its light seemed often +reflected as if only over the rim of a cloud.</p> + +<p>Well may we say, in the words of Tennyson, "Would he could have +stayed with us," for never could it be more truly recorded of any +one—in the words of Hamlet characterizing Yorick—that "he was a +fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." <span class="smcap">D.M. +Moir</span>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE ILIAD OF HOMER RENDERED INTO ENGLISH BLANK VERSE. By <span class="smcap">Edward, +Earl of Derby</span>. From the latest London edition, with all the +author's last revisions and corrections, and with a Biographical Sketch +of Lord Derby, by R. <span class="smcap">Shelton Mackenzie</span>, D.C.L. With twelve +steel engravings from Flaxman's celebrated designs. 2 vols., 12mo. +Cloth, extra, bev. boards, gilt top, $3.50; half calf, gilt, marbled +edges, $7.00; half Turkey morocco, gilt top, $7.00.</p> + +<p>The same. Popular edition. Two vols. in one. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It must equally be considered a splendid performance; and for the +present we have no hesitation in saying that it is by far the best +representation of Homer's Iliad in the English language."—<i>London +Times</i>.</p> + +<p>"The merits of Lord Derby's translation may be summed up in one +word, it is eminently attractive; it is instinct with life; it may +be read with fervent interest; it is immeasurably nearer than Pope +to the text of the original.... Lord Derby has given a version far +more closely allied to the original, and superior to any that has +yet been attempted in the blank verse of our language."—<i>Edinburg +Review</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE WORKS OF FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS. Comprising the Antiquities of the Jews; a +History of the Jewish Wars, and a Life of Flavius Josephus, written by +himself. Translated from the original Greek, by <span class="smcap">William +Whiston</span>, A.M. Together with numerous explanatory Notes and seven +Dissertations concerning Jesus Christ, John the Baptist, James the Just, +God's command to Abraham, etc., with an Introductory Essay by Rev. H. +Stebbing, D.D. 8vo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, plain edges, $3.00; +cloth, red, black and gold, gilt edges, $4.50; sheep, marbled edges, +$3.50; Turkey morocco, gilt edges, $8.00.</p> + +<p>This is the largest type one volume edition published.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE EGYPTIANS, CARTHAGINIANS, ASSYRIANS, +BABYLONIANS, MEDES AND PERSIANS, GRECIANS AND MACEDONIANS Including a +History of the Arts and Sciences of the Ancients. By <span class="smcap">Charles +Rollin</span>. With a Life of the Author, by <span class="smcap">James Bell</span>. 2 vols., +royal 8vo. Sheep, marbled edges, per set, $6.00.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span>COOKERY FROM EXPERIENCE. A Practical Guide for Housekeepers in the +Preparation of Every-day Meals, containing more than One Thousand +Domestic Recipes, mostly tested by Personal Experience, with Suggestions +for Meals, Lists of Meats and Vegetables in Season, etc. By Mrs. +<span class="smcap">Sara T. Paul</span>. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50.</p> + +<p>Interleaved Edition. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.75.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE COMPARATIVE EDITION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT.</p> + +<p>Both Versions in One Book.</p> + +<p>The proof readings of our Comparative Edition have been gone over by so +many competent proof readers, that we believe the text is absolutely +correct.</p> + +<p>Large 12mo., 700 pp. Cloth, extra, plain edges, $1.50; cloth, extra, +bevelled boards and carmine edges, $1.75; imitation panelled calf, +yellow edges, $2.00; arabesque, gilt edges, $2.50; French morocco, limp, +gilt edges, $4.00; Turkey morocco, limp, gilt edges, $6.00.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The Comparative New Testament has been published by Porter & +Coates. In parallel columns on each page are given the old and new +versions of the Testament, divided also as far us practicable into +comparative verses, so that it is almost impossible for the +slightest new word to escape the notice of either the ordinary +reader or the analytical student. It is decidedly the best edition +yet published of the most interest-exciting literary production of +the day. No more convenient form for comparison could be devised +either for economizing time or labor. Another feature is the +foot-notes, and there is also given in an appendix the various +words and expressions preferred by the American members of the +Revising Commission. The work is handsomely printed on excellent +paper with clear, legible type. It contains nearly 700 pages.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. By <span class="smcap">Alexandre Dumas</span>. Complete in one +volume, with two illustrations by George G. White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, +black and gold, $1.25.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE THREE GUARDSMEN. By <span class="smcap">Alexandre Dumas</span>. Complete in one +volume, with two illustrations by George G. White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, +black and gold, $1.25.</p> + +<blockquote><p>There is a magic influence in his pen, a magnetic attraction in his +descriptions, a fertility in his literary resources which are +characteristic of Dumas alone, and the seal of the master of light +literature is set upon all his works. Even when not strictly +historical, his romances give an insight into the habits and modes +of thought and action of the people of the time described, which +are not offered in any other author's productions.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. By <span class="smcap">Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton</span>, Bart. +Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00. Alta edition, +one illustration, 75 cts.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>JANE EYRE. By <span class="smcap">Charlotte Bronté</span> (Currer Bell). New Library +Edition. With five illustrations by <span class="smcap">E.M. Wimperis</span>. 12mo. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>SHIRLEY. By <span class="smcap">Charlotte Bronté</span> (Currer Bell). New Library +Edition. With five illustrations by <span class="smcap">E.M. Wimperis</span>. 12mo, Cloth, +extra, black and gold, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span>VILLETTE. By <span class="smcap">Charlotte Bronté</span> (Currer Bell). New Library +Edition. With five illustrations by <span class="smcap">E.M. Wimperis</span>. 12mo. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE PROFESSOR, EMMA and POEMS. By <span class="smcap">Charlotte Bronté</span> (Currer +Bell). New Library Edition. With five illustrations by <span class="smcap">E.M. +Wimperis</span>. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00.</p> + +<p>Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.00; red cloth, paper label, +gilt top, uncut edges, per set, $5.00; half calf, gilt, per set, $12.00. +The four volumes forming the complete works of Charlotte Bronté (Currer +Bell).</p> + +<blockquote><p>The wondrous power of Currer Bell's stories consists in their fiery +insight into the human heart, their merciless dissection of +passion, and their stern analysis of character and motive. The +style of these productions possesses incredible force, sometimes +almost grim in its bare severity, then relapsing into passages of +melting pathos—always direct, natural, and effective in its +unpretending strength. They exhibit the identity which always +belongs to works of genius by the same author, though without the +slightest approach to monotony. The characters portrayed by Currer +Bell all have a strongly marked individuality. Once brought before +the imagination, they haunt the memory like a strange dream. The +sinewy, muscular strength of her writings guarantees their +permanent duration, and thus far they have lost nothing of their +intensity of interest since the period of their composition.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>CAPTAIN JACK THE SCOUT; or, The Indian Wars about Old Fort Duquesne. An +Historical Novel, with copious notes. By <span class="smcap">Charles McKnight</span>. +Illustrated with eight engravings. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A work of such rare merit and thrilling interest as to have been +republished both in England and Germany. This genuine American +historical work has been received with extraordinary popular favor, +and has "won golden opinions from all sorts of people" for its +freshness, its forest life, and its fidelity to truth. In many +instances it even corrects History and uses the drapery of fiction +simply to enliven and illustrate the fact.</p> + +<p>It is a universal favorite with both sexes, and with all ages and +conditions, and is not only proving a marked and notable success in +this country, but has been eagerly taken up abroad and republished +in London, England, and issued in two volumes in the far-famed +"Tauchnitz Edition" of Leipsic, Germany.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>ORANGE BLOSSOMS, FRESH AND FADED. By <span class="smcap">T.S. Arthur</span>. Illustrated. +12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Orange Blossoms" contains a number of short stories of society. +Like all of Mr. Arthur's works, it has a special moral purpose, and +is especially addressed to the young who have just entered the +marital experience, whom it pleasantly warns against those social +and moral pitfalls into which they may almost innocently plunge.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>THE BAR ROOMS AT BRANTLEY; or, The Great Hotel Speculation. By <span class="smcap">T.S. +Arthur</span>. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"One of the best temperance stories recently issued."—<i>N.Y. +Commercial Advertiser</i>.</p> + +<p>"Although it is in the form of a novel, its truthful delineation of +characters is such that in every village in the land you meet the +broken manhood it pictures upon the streets, and look upon sad, +tear-dimmed eyes of women and children. The characters are not +overdrawn, but are as truthful as an artist's pencil could make +them."—<i>Inter-Ocean, Chicago</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span>EMMA. By <span class="smcap">Jane Austen</span>. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth extra $1.25.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>MANSFIELD PARK. By <span class="smcap">Jane Austen</span>. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, +extra, $1.25.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>PRIDE AND PREJUDICE; and Northanger Abbey. By <span class="smcap">Jane Austen</span>. +Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>SENSE AND SENSIBILITY; and Persuasion. By <span class="smcap">Jane Austen</span>. +Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25.</p> + +<p>The four volumes, forming the complete works of Jane Austen, in a neat +box: Cloth, extra, per set, $5.00; red cloth, paper label gilt top, +uncut edges, $5.00; half calf, gilt, per set, $12.00.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. In her +novels she has given us a multitude of characters, all, in a +certain sense, common-place, all such as we meet every day. Yet +they are all as perfectly discriminated from each other as if they +were the most eccentric of human beings.... And almost all this is +done by touches so delicate that they elude analysis, that they +defy the powers of description, and that we know them to exist only +by the general effect to which they have contributed."—<i>Macaulay's +Essays</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>ART AT HOME. Containing in one volume House Decoration, by +<span class="smcap">Rhoda</span> and <span class="smcap">Agnes Garrett</span>; Plea for Art in the House, by +<span class="smcap">W.J. Loftie</span>; Music, by <span class="smcap">John Hullah</span>; and Dress, by Mrs. +<span class="smcap">Oliphant</span>. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50.</p> + +<p class='tbrk'>TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS AT RUGBY. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Hughes</span>. New +Edition, large clear type. With 30 illustrations after Caldecott and +others. 12mo., 400 pp. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25; half calf, +gilt, $2.75.</p> + +<p>Alta Edition. One illustration, 75 cents.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It is difficult to estimate the amount of good which may be done +by 'Tom Brown's School Days.' It gives, in the main, a most +faithful and interesting picture of our public schools, the most +English institutions of England, and which educate the best and +most powerful elements in our upper classes. But it is more than +this; it is an attempt, a very noble and successful attempt, to +Christianize the society of our youth, through the only practicable +channel—hearty and brotherly sympathy with their feelings; a book, +in short, which a father might well wish to see in the hands of his +son."—<i>London Times</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class='tbrk'>TOM BROWN AT OXFORD. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Hughes</span>. Illustrated. 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50; half calf, gilt, $3.00.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Fairly entitled to the rank and dignity of an English classic. +Plot, style and truthfulness are of the soundest British character. +Racy, idiomatic, mirror-like, always interesting, suggesting +thought on the knottiest social and religious questions, now deeply +moving by its unconscious pathos, and anon inspiring uproarious +laughter, it is a work the world will not willingly let +die."—<i>N.Y. Christian Advocate</i>.</p></blockquote> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax +by Harriet Parr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX *** + +***** This file should be named 17086-h.htm or 17086-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/0/8/17086/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/17086.txt b/17086.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..893b50f --- /dev/null +++ b/17086.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16240 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax +by Harriet Parr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax + +Author: Harriet Parr + (AKA Holme Lee) + +Release Date: November 17, 2005 [EBook #17086] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + +THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX. + + +A NOVEL. + +BY + +HOLME LEE + +(MISS HARRIET PARR), + +AUTHOR OF "SYLVAN HOLT'S DAUGHTER," "KATHIE BRAND," ETC. + + +"Not what we could wish, but what we must even put up with." + + +PHILADELPHIA: + +PORTER & COATES. + + + + +CONTENTS. + +CHAP. PAGE + +I. HER BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 5 +II. THE LAWYER'S LETTER 10 +III. THE COMMUNITY OF BEECHHURST 15 +IV. A RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR 29 +V. GREAT-ASH FORD 37 +VI. AGAINST HER INCLINATION 46 +VII. HER FATE IS SEALED 59 +VIII. BESSIE'S FRIENDS AT BROOK 65 +IX. FAREWELL TO THE FOREST 77 +X. BESSIE GOES INTO EXILE 80 +XI. SCHOOL-DAYS AT CAEN 89 +XII. IN COURSE OF TIME 98 +XIII. BESSIE LEARNS A FAMILY SECRET 112 +XIV. ON BOARD THE "FOAM" 117 +XV. A LITTLE CHAPTER BY THE WAY 124 +XVI. A LOST OPPORTUNITY 127 +XVII. BESSIE'S BRINGING HOME 135 +XVIII. THE NEXT MORNING 145 +XIX. NEIGHBORS TO ABBOTSMEAD 152 +XX. PAST AND PRESENT 160 +XXI. A DISCOVERY 170 +XXII. PRELIMINARIES 177 +XXIII. BESSIE SHOWS CHARACTER 188 +XXIV. A QUIET POLICY 194 +XXV. A DINNER AT BRENTWOOD 198 +XXVI. A MORNING AT BRENTWOOD 209 +XXVII. SOME DOUBTS AND FEARS 216 +XXVIII. IN MINSTER COURT 223 +XXIX. LADY LATIMER IN WOLDSHIRE 228 +XXX. MY LADY REVISITS OLD SCENES 235 +XXXI. A SUCCESS AND A REPULSE 241 +XXXII. A HARD STRUGGLE 254 +XXXIII. A VISIT TO CASTLEMOUNT 256 +XXXIV. BESSIE'S PEACEMAKING 266 +XXXV. ABBOTSMEAD IN SHADOW 273 +XXXVI. DIPLOMATIC 282 +XXXVII. SUNDAY MORNING AT BEECHHURST 285 +XXXVIII. SUNDAY EVENING AT BROOK 294 +XXXIX. AT FAIRFIELD 305 +XL. ANOTHER RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR 311 +XLI. FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES 318 +XLII. HOW FRIENDS MAY FALL OUT 323 +XLIII. BETWEEN THEMSELVES 328 +XLIV. A LONG DULL DAY 336 +XLV. THE SQUIRE'S WILL 343 +XLVI. TENDER AND TRUE 349 +XLVII. GOODNESS PREVAILS 360 +XLVIII. CERTAIN OPINIONS 365 +XLIX. BESSIE'S LAST RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR 372 +L. FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 381 + + + + +THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +_HER BIRTH AND PARENTAGE._ + + +The years have come and gone at Beechhurst as elsewhere, but the results +of time and change seem to have almost passed it by. Every way out of +the scattered forest-town is still through beautiful forest-roads--roads +that cleave grand avenues, traverse black barren heaths, ford shallow +rivers, and climb over ferny knolls whence the sea is visible. The +church is unrestored, the parsonage is unimproved, the long low house +opposite is still the residence of Mr. Carnegie, the local doctor, and +looks this splendid summer morning precisely as it looked in the +splendid summer mornings long ago, when Bessie Fairfax was a little +girl, and lived there, and was very happy. + +Bessie was not akin to the doctor. Her birth and parentage were on this +wise. Her father was Geoffry, the third and youngest son of Mr. Fairfax +of Abbotsmead in Woldshire. Her mother was Elizabeth, only child of the +Reverend Thomas Bulmer, vicar of Kirkham. Their marriage was a +love-match, concluded when they had something less than the experience +of forty years between them. The gentleman had his university debts +besides to begin life with, the lady had nothing. As the shortest way to +a living he went into the Church, and the birth of their daughter was +contemporary with Geoffry's ordination. His father-in-law gave him a +title for orders, and a lodging under his roof, and Mr. Fairfax +grudgingly allowed his son two hundred a year for a maintenance. + +The young couple were lively and handsome. They had done a foolish +thing, but their friends agreed to condone their folly. Before very long +a south-country benefice, the rectory of Beechhurst, was put in +Geoffry's way, and he gayly removed with his wife and child to that +desirable home of their own. They were poor, but they were perfectly +contented. Nature is sometimes very kind in making up to people for the +want of fortune by an excellent gift of good spirits and good courage. +She was very kind in this way to Geoffry Fairfax and his wife Elizabeth; +so kind that everybody wondered with great amazement what possessed that +laughing, rosy woman to fall off in health, and die soon after the birth +of a second daughter, who died also, and was buried in the same grave +with her mother. + +The rector was a cheerful exemplification of the adage that man is not +made to live alone. He wore the willow just long enough for decency, and +then married again--married another pretty, portionless young woman of +no family worth mentioning. This reiterated indiscretion caused a breach +with his father, and the slender allowance that had been made him was +resumed. But his new wife was good to his little Bessie, and Abbotsmead +was a long way off. + +There were no children of this second marriage, which was lucky; for +three years after, the rector himself died, leaving his widow as +desolate as a clergyman's widow, totally unprovided for, can be. She had +never seen any member of her husband's family, and she made no claim on +Mr. Fairfax, who, for his part, acknowledged none. Bessie's near +kinsfolk on her mother's side were all departed this life; there was +nobody who wanted the child, or who would have regarded her in any light +but an incumbrance. The rector's widow therefore kept her unquestioned; +and being a woman of much sense and little pride, she moved no farther +from the rectory than to a cottage-lodging in the town, where she found +some teaching amongst the children of the small gentry, who then, as +now, were its main population. + +It was hard work for meagre reward, and perhaps she was not sorry to +exchange her mourning-weeds for bride-clothes again when Mr. Carnegie +asked her; for she was of a dependent, womanly character, and the doctor +was well-to-do and well respected, and ready with all his heart to give +little Bessie a home. The child was young enough when she lost her own +parents to lose all but a reflected memory of them, and cordially to +adopt for a real father and mother those who so cordially adopted her. + +Still, she was Bessie Fairfax, and as the doctor's house grew populous +with children of his own, Bessie was curtailed of her indulgences, her +learning, her leisure, and was taught betimes to make herself useful. +And she did it willingly. Her temper was loving and grateful, and Mrs. +Carnegie had her recompense in Bessie's unstinting helpfulness during +the period when her own family was increasing year by year; sometimes at +the rate of one little stranger, and sometimes at the rate of twins. The +doctor received his blessings with a welcome, and a brisk assurance to +his wife that the more they were the merrier. And neither Mrs. Carnegie +nor Bessie presumed to think otherwise; though seven tiny trots under +ten years old were a sore handful; and seven was the number Bessie kept +watch and ward over like a fairy godmother in the doctor's nursery, when +her own life had attained to no more than the discretion and philosophy +of fifteen. The chief of them were boys--boys on the plan of their +worthy father; five boys with excellent lungs and indefatigable stout +legs; and two little girls no whit behind their brothers for voluble +chatter and restless agility. Nobody complained, however. They had their +health--that was one mercy; there was enough in the domestic exchequer +to feed, clothe, and keep them all warm--that was another mercy; and as +for the future, people so busy as the doctor and his wife are forced to +leave that to Providence--which is the greatest mercy of all. For it is +to-morrow's burden breaks the back, never the burden of to-day. + +A constant regret with Mrs. Carnegie (when she had a spare moment to +think of it) was her inability, from stress of annually recurring +circumstances, to afford Bessie Fairfax more of an education, and +especially that she was not learning to speak French and play on the +piano. But Bessie felt no want of these polite accomplishments. She had +no accomplished companions to put her to shame for her deficiencies. She +was fond of a book, she could write an unformed, legible hand, and add +up a simple sum. The doctor, not a bad judge, called her a shrewd, +reasonable little lass. She had mother-wit, a warm heart, and a nice +face, as sweet and fresh as a bunch of roses with the dew on them, and +he did not see what she wanted with talking French and playing the +piano; if his wife would believe him, she would go through life quite as +creditably and comfortably without any fashionable foreign airs and +graces. Thus it resulted, partly from want of opportunity, and partly +from want of ambition in herself, that Bessie Fairfax remained a rustic +little maid, without the least tincture of modern accomplishments. +Still, the doctor's wife did not forget that her dear drudge and helpful +right hand was a waif of old gentry, whose restoration the chapter of +accidents might bring about any day. Nor did she suffer Bessie to forget +it, though Bessie was mighty indifferent, and cared as little for her +gentle kindred as they cared for her. And if these gentle kindred had +increased and multiplied according to the common lot, Bessie would +probably never have been remembered by them to any purpose; she might +have married as Mr. Carnegie's daughter, and have led an obscure, happy +life, without vicissitude to the end of it, and have died leaving no +story to tell. + +But many things had happened at Abbotsmead since the love-match of +Geoffry Fairfax and Elizabeth Bulmer. When Geoffry married, his brothers +were both single men. The elder, Frederick, took to himself soon after a +wife of rank and fortune; but there was no living issue of the marriage; +and the lady, after a few years of eccentricity, went abroad for her +health--that is, her husband was obliged to place her under restraint. +Her malady was pronounced incurable, though her life might be prolonged. +The second son, Laurence, had distinguished himself at Oxford, and had +become a knight-errant of the Society of Antiquaries. His father said he +would traverse a continent to look at one old stone. He was hardly +persuaded to relinquish his liberty and choose a wife, when the failure +of heirs to Frederick disconcerted the squire's expectations, and, with +the proverbial ill-luck of learned men, he chose badly. His wife, from a +silly, pretty shrew, matured into a most bitter scold; and a blessed man +was he, when, after three years of tribulation, her temper and a strong +fever carried her off. His Xantippe left no child. Mr. Fairfax urged the +obligations of ancient blood, old estate, and a second marriage; but +Laurence had suffered conjugal felicity enough, and would no more of it. +It was now that the squire first bethought himself seriously of his son +Geoffry's daughter. He proposed to bring her home to Abbotsmead, and to +marry her in due time to some poor young gentleman of good family, who +would take her name, and give the house of Fairfax a new lease, as had +been done thrice before in its long descent, by means of an heiress. The +poor young man who might be so obliging was even named. Frederick and +Laurence gave consent to whatever promised to mitigate their father's +disappointment in themselves, and the business was put into the hands of +their man of law, John Short of Norminster, than whom no man in that +venerable city was more respected for sagacity and integrity. + +If Mr. Fairfax had listened to John Short in times past, he would not +have needed his help now. John Short had urged the propriety of +recalling Bessie from Beechhurst when her father died; but no good +grandmother or wise aunt survived at Kirkham to insist upon it, and the +thing was not done. The man of law did not, however, revert to what was +past remedy, but gave his mind to considering how his client might be +extricated from his existing dilemma with least pain and offence. Mr. +Fairfax had a legal right to the custody of his young kinswoman, but he +had not the conscience to plead his legal right against the long-allowed +use and custom of her friends. If they were reluctant to let her go, and +she were reluctant to come, what then? John Short confessed that Mr. +Carnegie and Bessie herself might give them trouble if they were so +disposed; but he had a reasonable expectation that they would view the +matter through the medium of common sense. + +Thus much by way of prelude to the story of Bessie Fairfax's +Vicissitudes, which date from this momentous era of her life. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_THE LAWYER'S LETTER._ + + +"The postman! Run, Jack, and bring the letter." + +_The letter_, said Mr. Carnegie; for the correspondence between the +doctor's house and the world outside it was limited. Jack jumped off his +chair at the breakfast-table and rushed to do his father's bidding. + +"For mother!" cried he, returning at the speed of a small whirlwind, the +epistle held aloft. Down he clapped it on the table by her plate, +mounted into his chair again, and resumed the interrupted business of +the hour. + +Mrs. Carnegie glanced aside at the letter, read the post-mark, and +reflected aloud: "Norminster--who can be writing to us from Norminster? +Some of Bessie's people?" + +"The shortest way would be to open the letter and see. Hand it over to +me," said the doctor. + +Bessie pricked her ears; but Mr. Carnegie read the letter to himself, +while his wife was busy replenishing the little mugs that came up in +single file incessantly for more milk. A momentary pause in the wants of +her offspring gave her leisure to notice her husband's visage--a +dusk-red and weather-brown visage at its best, but gathered now into +extraordinary blackness. She looked, but did not speak; the doctor was +the first to speak. + +"It is about Bessie--from her grandfather's agent," said he with +suppressed vexation as he replaced the large full sheet in its envelope. + +"What about _me_?" cried Bessie in an explosion of natural curiosity. + +"Your mother will tell you presently. Mind, boys, you are good to-day, +and don't tire your sister." + +So unusual an admonition made the boys stare, and everybody was hushed +with a presentiment of something going to happen that nobody would +approve. Mrs. Carnegie had her conjectures, not far wide of the truth, +and Bessie was conscious of impatience to get the children out of the +way, that she might have her curiosity appeased. + +The doctor discerned the insurrection of self in her face, and said, +almost bitterly, "Wait till I am gone, Bessie; you will have all the +rest of your life to think of it. Now, boys, you have done eating; be +off, and get ready for school." + +Jack and the rest cleared out of the parlor and pattered up stairs, +Bessie following close on their heels, purposely deaf to her mother's +voice: "You may stay, love." She was hurt and perturbed. An idea of what +was impending had flashed into her mind. After all, her abrupt exit was +convenient to her elders; they could discuss the circumstances more +freely in her absence. Mrs. Carnegie began. + +"Well, Thomas, what does this wonderful letter say? I think I can +guess--Bessie is to go home?" + +"Home! What place can be home to her if this is not?" rejoined the +doctor, and strode across the room to shut the door on his retreating +progeny, while his wife entered on the perusal of the letter. + +It was from Mr. John Short, on the business that we wot of. To Mr. +Carnegie it read like a cool intimation that Bessie Fairfax was +wanted--was become of importance at Abbotsmead, and must break with her +present associations. It would have been impossible to convey in +palatable words the requisition that the lawyer was put upon making; but +to Mrs. Carnegie the demand did not sound harsh, nor the manner of it +insolent. She had always kept her mind in a state of preparedness for +some such change, and the only sense of annoyance that smote her was for +her own shortcomings--for how she had suffered Bessie to be almost a +servant to her own children, and how she could neither speak French nor +play on the piano. + +The doctor pooh-poohed her remorse. "You have done the best for her you +could, Jane. What right has her grandfather to expect anything? He left +her on your hands without a penny." + +"Bessie has been worth more than she costs, if that were the way to look +at it. But she will have to leave us now; she will have to go." + +"Yes, she will have to go. But the old gentleman shall never deny our +share in her." + +"The future will rest with Bessie herself." + +"And she has a good heart and a will of her own. She will be a woman +with brains, whether she can play on the piano or not. Don't fret +yourself, Jane, for any fancied neglect of Bessie." + +"I am sadly grieved for her, Thomas; she will be sent to school, and +what a life she will lead, dear child, so backward in her learning!" + +"Nonsense! She is a bit of very good company. Wherever Bessie goes she +will hold her own. She has plenty of character, and, take my word for +it, character tells more in the long-run than talking French. There is +the gig at the gate, and I must be off, though Bessie was starting for +Woldshire by the next post. The letter is not one to be answered on the +spur of the moment; acknowledge it, and say that it shall be answered +shortly." + +With a comfortable kiss the doctor bade his wife good-bye for the day, +admonishing her not to fall a-crying with Bessie over what could not be +remedied. And so he left her with the tears in her eyes already. She sat +a few minutes feeling rather than reflecting, then with the lawyer's +letter in her hands went up stairs, calling softly as she went, "Bessie +dear, where are you?" + +"Here, mother, in my own room;" and Bessie appeared in the doorway +handling a scarlet feather-brush with which she was accustomed to dust +her small property in books and ornaments each morning after the +housemaid had performed her heavier task. + +Mrs. Carnegie entered with her, and shut the door; for the two-leaved +lattice was wide open, and the muslin curtains were blowing half across +the tiny triangular nook under the thatch, which had been Bessie +Fairfax's "own room" ever since she came to live in the doctor's house. +Bessie was very fond of it, very proud of keeping it neat. There were +assembled all the personal memorials of no moneysworth that had been +rescued from the rectory-sale after her father's death; two miniatures, +not valuable as works of art, but precious as likenesses of her parents; +a faint sketch in water-colors of Kirkham Church and Parsonage House, +and another sketch of Abbotsmead; an Indian work-box, a China bowl, two +jars and a dish, very antiquated, and diffusing a soft perfume of +roses; and about a hundred and fifty volumes of books, selected by his +widow from the rectory library, for their binding rather than their +contents, and perhaps not very suitable for a girl's collection. But +Bessie set great store by them; and though the ancient Fathers of the +Church accumulated dust on their upper shelves, and the sages of Greece +and Rome were truly sealed books to her, she could have given a fair +account of her Shakespeare and of the Aldine Poets to a judicious +catechist, and of many another book with a story besides; even of her +Hume, Gibbon, Goldsmith, and Rollin, and of her Scott, perennially +delightful. She was, in fact, no dunce, though she had not been +disciplined in the conventional routine of education; and as for +training in the higher sense, she could not have grown into a more +upright or good girl under any guidance, than under that of her tender +and careful mother. + +And in appearance what was she like, this Bessie Fairfax, subjected so +early to the caprices of fortune? It is not to be pretended that she +reached the heroic standard. Mr. Carnegie said she bade fair to be very +handsome, but she was at the angular age when the framework of a girl's +bones might stand almost as well for a boy's, and there was, indeed, +something brusque, frank, and boyish in Bessie's air and aspect at this +date. She walked well, danced well, rode well--looked to the manner born +when mounted on the little bay mare, which carried the doctor on his +second journeys of a day, and occasionally carried Bessie in his company +when he was going on a round, where, at certain points, rest and +refreshment were to be had for man and beast. Her figure had not the +promise of majestic height, but it was perfectly proportioned, and her +face was a capital letter of introduction. Feature by feature, it was, +perhaps, not classical, but never was a girl nicer looking taken +altogether; the firm sweetness of her mouth, the clear candor of her +blue eyes, the fair breadth of her forehead, from which her light +golden-threaded hair stood off in a wavy halo, and the downy peach of +her round cheeks made up a most kissable, agreeable face. And there were +sense and courage in it as well as sweetness; qualities which in her +peculiar circumstances would not be liable to rust for want of using. + +The mistiness of tears clouded Bessie's eyes when her mother, without +preamble, announced the purport of the letter in her hand. + +"It has come at last, Bessie, the recall that I have kept you in mind +was sure to come sooner or later; not that we shall be any the less +grieved to lose you, dear. Father will miss his clever little Bessie +sadly,"--here the kind mother paused for emotion, and Bessie, athirst to +know all, asked if she might read the letter. + +The letter was not written for her reading, and Mrs. Carnegie hesitated; +but Bessie's promptitude overruled her doubt in a manner not unusual +with them. She took possession of the document, and sat down in the deep +window-seat to study it; and she had read but a little way when there +appeared signs in her face that it did not please her. Her mother knew +these signs well; the stubborn set of the lips, the resolute depression +of the level brows, much darker than her hair, the angry sparkle of her +eyes, which never did sparkle but when her temper was ready to flash out +in impetuous speech. Mrs. Carnegie spoke to forewarn her against rash +declarations. + +"It is of no use to say you _won't_, Bessie, for you _must_. Your father +said, before he went out, that we have no choice but to let you go." + +Bessie did not condescend to any rejoinder yet. She was reading over +again some passage of the letter by which she felt herself peculiarly +affronted. She continued to the end of it, and it was perhaps lucky that +her tenderness had then so far prevailed over her wrath that she could +only give way to tears of self-pity, instead of voice to the defiant +words that had trembled on her tongue a minute ago. + +"I did hope, dear, that you would not take it so much to heart," said +her mother, comforting her. "But it is mortifying to think of being sent +to school. What a pity we have let time go on till you are fifteen, and +can neither speak a word of French nor play a note on the piano!" + +Bessie had so often heard Mr. Carnegie's opinion of these +accomplishments that her mother's regrets wore a comic aspect to her +mind, and between laughing and crying she protested that she did not +care, she should not try to improve to please _them_--meaning her +Woldshire kinsfolk mentioned in the lawyer's letter. + +"You have good common-sense, Bessie, and I am sure you will use it," +said her mother with persuasive gravity. "If you show off with your +tempers, that will give a color to their notion that you have been badly +brought up. You must do us and yourself what credit you can, going +amongst strangers. I am not afraid for you, unless you set up your +little back, and determine to be downright naughty and perverse." + +Bessie's countenance was not promising as she gave ear to these +premonitions. Her upper lip was short, and her nether lip pressed +against it with a scorny indignation. Her back was very much up, indeed, +in the moral sense indicated by her mother, and as these inauspicious +moods of hers were apt to last the longer the longer they were reasoned +with, her mother prudently refrained from further disquisition. She bade +her go about her ordinary business as if nothing had happened, and +Bessie did go about these duties with a quiet practical obedience to law +and order which bore out the testimony to her good common-sense. She +thought of Mr. John Short's letter, it is true, and once she stood for a +minute considering the sketch of Abbotsmead which hung above her chest +of drawers. "Gloomy dull old place," was her criticism on it; but even +as she looked, there ensued the reflection that the sun _must_ shine +upon it sometimes, though the artist had drawn it as destitute of light +and shade as the famous portrait of Queen Elizabeth, when she wished to +be painted fair, and was painted merely insipid. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_THE COMMUNITY OF BEECHHURST._ + + +The lawyer's letter from Norminster had thrust aside all minor +interests. Even the school-feast that was to be at the rectory that +afternoon was forgotten, until the boys reminded their mother of it at +dinner-time. "Bessie will take you," said Mrs. Carnegie, and Bessie +acquiesced. The one thing she found impossible to-day was to sit still. +We will go to the school-feast with the children. The opportunity will +be good for introducing to the reader a few persons of chief +consideration in the rural community where Bessie Fairfax acquired some +of her permanent views of life. + +Beechhurst Rectory was the most charming rectory-house on the Forest. It +would be delightful to add that the rector was as charming as his abode; +but Beechhurst did not call itself happy in its pastor at this +moment--the Rev. Askew Wiley. Mr. Wiley's immediate predecessor--the +Rev. John Hutton--had been a pattern for country parsons. Hale, hearty, +honest as the daylight; knowing in sport, in farming, in gardening; bred +at Westminster and Oxford; the third son of a family distinguished in +the Church; happily married, having sons of his own, and sufficient +private fortune to make life easy both in the present and the future. +Unluckily for Beechhurst, he preferred the north to the south country, +and, after holding the benefice a little over one year, he exchanged it +against Otterburn, a moorland border parish of Cumberland, whence Mr. +Wiley had for some time past been making strenuous efforts to escape. +Both were crown livings, but Otterburn stood for twice as much in the +king's books as Beechhurst. Mr. Wiley was, however, willing to pay the +forfeiture of half his income to get away from it. He had failed to make +friends with the farmers, his principal parishioners, and the vulgar +squabbles of Otterburn had grown into such a notorious scandal that the +bishop was only too thankful to promote his removal. Mrs. Wiley's health +was the ostensible reason, and though Otterburn knew better, Beechhurst +accepted it in good faith, and gave its new rector a cordial +welcome--none the less cordial that his wife came on the scene a robust +and capable woman, ready and fit for parish work, and with no air of the +fragile invalid it had been led to expect. + +But men are shrewd on the Forest as on the Border, and the Rev. Askew +Wiley was soon at a discount. His appearance was eminently clerical, but +no two of his congregation formed the same opinion of what he was +besides, unless the opinion that they did not like him. It was a clear +case of Dr. Fell; for there was nothing in his life to except to, and +in his character only a deficiency of courage. _Only?_ But +stay--consider what a crop of servile faults spring from a deficiency of +courage. + +"He do so beat the devil about the bush that there is no knowing where +to have him," was the dictum early enunciated by a village Solomon, +which went on to be verified more and more, until the new rector was as +much despised on the Forest as on the Border. But he had a different +race to deal with. At Otterburn the rude statesmen provoked and defied +him with loud contempt; at Beechhurst his congregation dwindled down to +the gentlefolks, who tolerated him out of respect to his office, and to +the aged poor, who received a weekly dole of bread, bequeathed by some +long-ago benefactor; and these were mostly women. Mr. Carnegie was a +fair sample of the men, and he made no secret of his aversion. + +The Reverend Askew Wiley, see him as he paces the lawn, his supple back +writhed just a little towards my lady deferentially, his head just a +little on one side, lending her an ear. By the gait of him he is looking +another way. Yes; for now my lady turns, he turns too, and they halt +front to front; his pallid visage half averted from her observation, his +glittering eyes roving with bold stealth over the populous garden, and +his thin-lipped, scarlet mouth working and twisting incessantly in the +covert of his thick-set beard. + +My lady speaks with an impatience scarcely controlled. She is the great +lady of Beechhurst, the Dowager Lady Latimer, in the local estimation a +very great lady indeed; once a leader in society, now retired from it, +and living obscurely on her rich dower in the Forest, with almsdeeds and +works of patronage and improvement for her pleasure and her occupation. +My lady always loved her own way, but she had worked harmoniously with +Mr. Hutton through his year's incumbency. He was sufficient for his +duties, and gave her no opportunity for the exercise of unlawful +authority, no ground for encroachments, no room for interference. But it +was very different with poor Mr. Wiley. Everybody knew that he was a +trial to her. He could not hold his own against her propensity to +dictate. He deferred to her, and contrived to thwart her, to do the very +thing she would not have done, and to do it in the most obnoxious way. +The puzzle was--could he help it? Was he one of those tactless persons +who are for ever blundering, or had he the will to assert himself, and +not the pluck to do it boldly? His refuge was in round-about +manoeuvres, and my lady felt towards him as those intolerant +Cumberland statesmen felt before their enmity made the bleak moorland +too hot for him. He was called an able man, but his foibles were +precisely of the sort to create in the large-hearted of the gentle sex +an almost masculine antipathy to their spiritual pastor. Bessie Fairfax +could not bear him, and she could render a reason. Mr. Wiley received +pupils to read at his house, and he had refused to receive a dear +comrade of hers. It was his rule to receive none but the sons of +gentlemen. Young Musgrave was the son of a farmer on the Forest, who +called cousins with the young Carnegies. As the connection was wide, +perhaps the vigorous dislike of more important persons than Bessie +Fairfax is sufficiently accounted for. All the world is agreed that a +slight wound to men's self-love rankles much longer than a mortal +injury. + +It is not, however, to be supposed that the Beechhurst people spited +themselves so far as to keep away from the rector's school-treat because +they did not love the rector. (By the by, it was not his treat, but only +buns and tea by subscription distributed in his grounds, with the +privilege of admittance to the subscribers.) The orthodox gentility of +the neighborhood assembled in force for the occasion when the sun shone +upon it as it shone to-day, and the entertainment was an event for +children of all classes. If the richer sort did not care for buns, they +did for games; and the Carnegie boys were so eager to lose none of the +sport that they coaxed Bessie to take time by the forelock, and +presented themselves almost first on the scene. Mrs. Wiley, ready and +waiting out of doors to welcome her more distinguished guests, met a +trio of the little folks, in Bessie's charge, trotting round the end of +the house to reach the lawn. + +"Always in good time, Bessie Carnegie," said she. "But is not your +mother coming?" + +"No, thank you, Mrs. Wiley," said Bessie with prim decorum. + +"By the by, that is not your name. What is your name, Bessie?" + +"Elizabeth Fairfax." + +"Ah! yes; now I remember--Elizabeth Fairfax. And is your uncle pretty +well? I suppose we shall see him later in the day? He ought to look in +upon us before we break up. There! run away to the children in the +orchard, and leave the lawn clear." + +Bessie accepted her dismissal gladly, thankful to escape the +catechetical ordeal that would have ensued had there been leisure for +it. She was almost as shy of the rector's wife as of the rector. Mrs. +Wiley had a brusque, absent manner, and it was a trick of hers to expose +her young acquaintance to a fire of questions, of which she as regularly +forgot the answers. She had often affronted Bessie Fairfax by asking her +real name, and in the next breath calling her affably Bessie Carnegie, +the doctor's step-daughter, niece or other little kinswoman whom he kept +as a help in his house for charity's sake. + +Bessie had but faint recollections of the rectory as her home, for since +her father's death she had never gone there except as a visitor on +public days. But the tradition was always in her memory that once she +had lived in those pleasant rooms, had run up and down those broad sunny +stairs, and played on the spacious lawns of that mossy, tree-shadowed +garden. In the orchard had assembled, besides the children, a group of +their ex-teachers--Miss Semple and her sister, the village dressmakers, +Miss Genet, the daughter at the post-office, and the two Miss +Mittens--well-behaved and well-instructed young persons whom Mr. Wiley's +predecessors had been pleased to employ, but for whom Mrs. Wiley found +no encouragement. She had the ordering of the school, and preferred +gentlewomen for her lay-sisters. She had them, and only herself knew +what trouble in keeping them punctual to their duty and in keeping the +peace amongst them. There was dear fat Miss Buff, who had been right +hand in succession to Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Roebuck and Mr. Hutton, who +adored supremacy, and exercised it with the easy sway of long usage; she +felt herself pushed on one side by that ardent young Irish recruit, Miss +Thusy O'Flynn, whose peculiar temper no one cared to provoke, and who +ruled by the terror of it with a caprice that was trying in the last +degree. Miss Buff gave way to her, but not without grumbling, appealing, +and threatening to withdraw her services. But she loved her work in the +school and in the choir, and could not bear to punish herself or let +Miss Thusy triumph to the extent of driving her into private life; so +she adhered to her charge in the hope of better days, when she would +again be mistress paramount. And the same did Miss Wort--also one of the +old governing body--but from higher motives, which she was not afraid to +publish: she distrusted Mr. Wiley's doctrine, and she feared that he was +inclined to truckle to the taste for ecclesiastical decoration +manifested by certain lambs of his flock who doted on private +theatricals and saw no harm in balls. She adhered to her post, that the +truth might not suffer for want of a witness; and if the rising +generation of girls in preposterous hats had taken her for their pattern +of a laborious teacher, true to time as the school-bell itself, Mrs. +Wiley's preference for young ladies over young persons would have been +better justified, and Lady Latimer would not have been able to find +fault with the irregular attendance of the children, to express her +opinion that the school was not what it might be, and to throw out hints +that she must set about reforming it unless it soon reformed itself. + +Bessie Fairfax was on speaking terms with nearly everybody, and Miss +Mitten called her the moment she appeared to help in setting a ring for +"drop hankercher." Two of the little Carnegies merrily joined hands with +the rest, and they were just about to begin, Jack being unanimously +nominated as first chase for his dexterous running, when a shrill voice +called to them peremptorily to desist. + +"Why have you fallen out of rank? You ought to have kept your ranks +until you had sung grace before tea. Get into line again quickly, for +here come the buns;" and there was Miss Thusy O'Flynn, perched on a +mole-hill, in an attitude of command, waving her parasol and +demonstrating how they were to stand. + +"The buns, indeed! It is time, I'm sure," muttered Miss Buff, +substantial in purple silk and a black lace bonnet. Her rival was a +pretty, red-haired, resolute little girl, very prettily dressed, who +showed to no disadvantage on the mole-hill. But Miss Buff could see no +charm she had; she it was who had given leave for a game, to pass the +time before tea. The children had been an hour in the orchard, and the +feast was still delayed. + +"Perhaps the kettle does not boil," suggested Miss Wort, indulgently. + +"We are kept waiting for Miss O'Flynn's aunt," rejoined Miss Buff. "Here +she comes, with our angelical parson, and Lady Latimer, out in the cold, +walking behind them." + +Bessie Fairfax looked up. Lady Latimer was her supreme admiration. She +did not think that another lady so good, so gracious, so beautiful, +enriched the world. If there did, that lady was not the Viscountess +Poldoody. Bessie had a lively sense of fun, and the Irish dame was a +figure to call a smile to a more guarded face than hers--a short squab +figure that waddled, and was surmounted by a negative visage composed of +pulpy, formless features, and a brown wig of false curls--glaringly +false, for they were the first thing about her that fixed the eye, +though there were many matters besides to fascinate an observer with +leisure to look again. She seemed, however, a most free and cheerful old +lady, and talked in a loud, mellow voice, with a pleasant touch of the +brogue. She had been a popular Dublin singer and actress in her day--a +day some forty years ago--but only Lady Latimer and herself in the +rectory garden that afternoon were aware of the fact. + +Grand people possessed an irresistible attraction for Mr. Wiley. The +Viscountess Poldoody had taken a house in his parish for the fine +season, and came to his church with her niece; he had called upon her, +and now escorted her to the orchard with a fulsome assiduity which was +betrayed to those who followed by the uneasy writhing of his back and +shoulders. With many complimentary words he invited her to distribute +the prizes to the children. + +"If your ladyship will so honor them, it will be a day in their lives to +remember." + +"Give away the prizes? Oh yes, if ye'll show me which choild to give 'em +to," replied the viscountess with a good-humored readiness. Then, with +a propriety of feeling which was thought very nice in her, she added, in +the same natural, distinct manner, standing and looking round as she +spoke: + +"But is it not my Lady Latimer's right? What should I know of your +children, who am only a summer visitor?" + +Lady Latimer acknowledged the courteous disclaimer with that exquisite +smile which had been the magic of her loveliness always. The children +would appreciate the kindness of a stranger, she said; and with a +perfect grace yielded the precedence, and at the same time resigned the +opportunity she had always enjoyed before of giving the children a +monition once a year on their duty to God, their parents, their pastors +and masters, elders and betters, and neighbors in general. Whether my +lady felt aggrieved or not nobody could discern; but the people about +were aggrieved for her, and Miss Buff confided to a friend, in a +semi-audible whisper of intense exasperation, that the rector was the +biggest muff and toady that ever it had been her misfortune to know. +Miss Buff, it will be perceived, liked strong terms; but, as she justly +pleaded in extenuation of a taste for which she was reproached, what was +the use of there being strong terms in the language if they were not to +be applied on suitable occasions? + +The person, however, on whom this incident made the deepest impression +was Bessie Fairfax. Bessie admired Lady Latimer because she was +admirable. She had listened too often to Mr. Carnegie's radical talk to +have any reverence for rank and title unadorned; but her love of beauty +and goodness made her look up with enthusiastic respect to the one noble +lady she knew, of whom even the doctor spoke as "a great woman." The +children sang their grace and sat down to tea, and Lady Latimer stood +looking on, her countenance changed to a stern gravity; and Bessie, +quite diverted from the active business of the feast, stood looking at +her and feeling sorry. The child's long abstracted gaze ended by drawing +my lady's attention. She spoke to her, and Bessie started out of her +reverie, wide-awake in an instant. + +"Is there nothing for you to do, Bessie Fairfax, that you stand musing? +Bring me a chair into the shade of the old walnut tree over yonder. I +have something to say to you. Do you remember what we talked about that +wet morning last winter at my house?" + +"Yes, my lady," replied Bessie, and brought the chair with prompt +obedience. + +On the occasion alluded to Bessie had been caught in a heavy rain while +riding with the doctor. He had deposited her in Lady Latimer's kitchen, +to be dried and comforted by the housekeeper while he went on his +farther way; and my lady coming into the culinary quarter while Bessie +was there, had given her a delicious cheese-cake from a tin just hot out +of the oven, and had then entered into conversation with her about her +likes and dislikes, concluding with the remark that she had in her the +making of an excellent National School mistress, and ought to be trained +for that special walk in life. Bessie had carried home a report of what +Lady Latimer had said; but neither her father nor mother admired the +suggestion, and it had not been mentioned again. Now, however, being +comfortably seated, my lady revived it in a serious, methodical way, +Bessie standing before her listening and blushing with a confusion that +increased every moment. She was thinking of the letter from Norminster, +but she did not venture yet to arrest Lady Latimer's flow of advice. My +lady did not discern that anything was amiss. She was accustomed to have +her counsels heard with deference. From advice she passed into +exhortation, assuming that Bessie was, of course, destined to some sort +of work for a living--to dressmaking, teaching or service in some +shape--and encouraging her to make advances for her future, that it +might not overtake her unprepared. Lady Latimer had not come into the +Forest until some years after the Reverend Geoffry Fairfax's death, and +she had no knowledge of Bessie's birth, parentage and connections; but +she had a principle against poor women pining in the shadow of gentility +when they could help themselves by honest endeavors; and also, she had a +plan for raising the quality of National School teaching by introducing +into the ranks of the teachers young gentlewomen unprovided by fortune. +She advised no more than she would have done, and all she said was good, +if Bessie's circumstances had been what she assumed. But Bessie, +conscious that they were about to suffer a change, felt impelled at +last to set Lady Latimer right. Her shy face mitigated the effect of her +speech. + +"I have kindred in Woldshire, my lady, who want me. I am the only child +in this generation, and my grandfather Fairfax says that it is necessary +for me to go back to my own people." + +Lady Latimer's face suddenly reflected a tint of Bessie's. But no +after-thought was in Bessie's mind, her simplicity was genuine. She +esteemed it praise to be selected as a fit child to teach children; and, +besides, whatever my lady had said at this period would have sounded +right in Bessie's ears. When she had uttered her statement, she waited +till Lady Latimer spoke. + +"Do you belong to the Fairfaxes of Kirkham? Is your grandfather Richard +Fairfax of Abbotsmead?" she said in a quick voice, with an inflection of +surprise. + +"Yes, my lady. My father was Geoffry, the third son; my mother was +Elizabeth Bulmer." + +"I knew Abbotsmead many years ago. It will be a great change for you. +How old are you, Bessie? Fourteen, fifteen?" + +"Fifteen, my lady, last birthday, the fourth of March." + +Lady Latimer thought to herself, "Here is an exact little girl!" Then +she said aloud, "It would have been better for you if your grandfather +had recalled you when you were younger." + +Bessie was prepared to hear this style of remark, and to repudiate the +implication. She replied almost with warmth, "My lady, I have lost +nothing by being left here. Beechhurst will always be home to me. If I +had my choice I would not go to Kirkham." + +Lady Latimer thought again what a nice voice Bessie had, and regarded +her with a growing interest, that arose in part out of her own +recollections. She questioned her concerning her father's death, and the +circumstances of her adoption by Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie, and reflected +that, happily, she was too simple, too much of a child yet, for any but +family attachments--happily, because, though Bessie had no experience to +measure it by, there would be a wide difference between her position as +the doctor's adopted daughter amongst a house full of children, and as +heiress presumptive of Mr. Fairfax of Abbotsmead. + +"Have you ever seen Abbotsmead, Bessie?" she said. + +"No, my lady, I have never been in Woldshire since I was a baby. I was +born at Kirkham vicarage, my grandfather Bulmer's house, but I was not a +year old when we came away. I have a drawing of Abbotsmead that my +mother made--it is not beautiful." + +"But Abbotsmead is very beautiful--the country round about is not so +delicious as the Forest, for it has less variety: it is out of sight of +the sea, and the trees are not so grand, but Abbotsmead itself is a +lovely spot. The house stands on a peninsula formed by a little brawling +river, and in the park are the ruins that give the place its name. I +remember the garden at Abbotsmead as a garden where the sun always +shone." + +Bessie was much cheered. "How glad I am! In my picture the sun does not +shine at all. It is the color of a dark day in November." + +The concise simplicity of Bessie's talk pleased Lady Latimer. She +decided that Mrs. Carnegie must be a gentlewoman, and that Bessie had +qualities capable of taking a fine polish. She would have held the child +in conversation longer had not Mrs. Wiley come up, and after a word or +two about the success of the feast, bade Bessie run away and see that +her little brothers were not getting into mischief. Lady Latimer nodded +her a kind dismissal, and off she went. + +Six o'clock struck. By that time the buns were all eaten, the prizes +were all distributed, and the cream of the company had driven or walked +away, but cricket still went on in the meadow, and children's games in +the orchard. One or two gentlemen had come on the scene since the fervor +of the afternoon abated. Admiral Parkins, who governed Beechhurst under +Lady Latimer, was taking a walk round the garden with his brother +church-warden, Mr. Musgrave, and Mr. Carnegie had made his bow to the +rector's wife, who was not included in his aversion for the rector. Mr. +Phipps, also a gentleman of no great account in society, but a liberal +supporter of the parish charities, was there--a small, grotesque man to +look at, who had always an objection in his mouth. Was any one praised, +he mentioned a qualification; was any one blamed, he interposed a plea. +He had a character for making shrewd, incisive remarks, and was called +ironical, because he had a habit of dispersing flattering delusions and +wilful pretences by bringing the dry light of truth to bear upon them--a +gratuitous disagreeableness which was perhaps the reason why he was now +perched on a tree-stump alone, casting shy, bird-like glances hither and +thither--at two children quarrelling over a cracked tea-cup, at the +rector halting about uncomfortably amongst the "secondary people," at +his wife being instructed by Lady Latimer, at Lady Latimer herself, +tired but loath to go, at Bessie Fairfax, full of spirit and +forgetfulness, running at speed over the grass, a vociferous, noisy +troop of children after her. + +"Stop, stop, you are not to cross the lawn!" cried Mrs. Wiley. "Bessie +Carnegie, what a tomboy you are! We might be sure if there was any +roughness you were at the head of it." + +Lady Latimer also looked austere at the infringement of respect. Bessie +did not hear, and sped on till she reached the tree-stump where Mr. +Phipps was resting, and touched it--the game was "tiggy-touch-wood." +There she halted to take breath, her round cheeks flushed, her carnation +mouth open, and her pursuers baffled. + +"You are a pretty young lady!" said Mr. Phipps, not alluding to Bessie's +beauty, but to her manner sarcastically. Bessie paid no heed. They were +very good friends, and she cared nothing for his sharp observations. But +she perceived that the rout of children was being turned back to the +orchard, and made haste to follow them. + +Admiral Parkins and Mr. Musgrave had foregathered with Mr. Carnegie to +discuss some matters of parish finance. They drew near to Mr. Phipps and +took him into the debate. It was concerning a new organ for the church, +a proposed extension of the school-buildings, an addition to the +master's salary, and a change of master. The present man was +old-fashioned, and the spirit of educational reform had reached +Beechhurst. + +"If we wait until Wiley moves in the business, we may wait till +doomsday. The money will be forthcoming when it is shown that it is +wanted," said the admiral, whose heart was larger than his income. + +"Lady Latimer will not be to ask twice," said Mr. Musgrave. "Nor Mr. +Phipps." + +"We must invite her ladyship to take the lead," said Mr. Carnegie. + +"Let us begin by remembering that, as a poor community, we have no right +to perfection," said Mr. Phipps. "The voluntary taxes of the locality +are increasing too fast. It is a point of social honor for all to +subscribe to public improvements, and all are not gifted with a +superfluity of riches. If honor is to be rendered where honor is due, +let Miss Wort take the lead. Having regard to her means, she is by far +the most generous donor in Beechhurst." + +Mr. Phipps's proposal was felt to need no refutation. The widow's mite +is such a very old story--not at all applicable to the immense +operations of modern philanthropy. Besides, Miss Wort had no ambition +for the glory of a leader, nor had she the figure for the post. Mr. +Phipps was not speaking to be contradicted, only to be heard. + +Lady Latimer, on her way to depart, came near the place where the +gentlemen were grouped, and turned aside to join them, as if a sudden +thought had struck her. "You are discussing our plans?" she said. "A +certificated master to supersede poor old Rivett must be the first +consideration in our rearrangement of the schools. The children have +been sacrificed too long to his incompetence. We must be on the look-out +for a superior man, and make up our minds to pay him well." + +"Poor old Rivett! he has done good work in his day, but he has the fault +that overtakes all of us in time," said Mr. Phipps. "For the master of a +rural school like ours, I would choose just such another man--of rough +common-sense, born and bred in a cottage, and with an experimental +knowledge of the life of the boys he has to educate. Certificated if you +please, but the less conventionalized the better." + +Lady Latimer did not like Mr. Phipps--she thought there was something of +the spy in his nature. She gazed beyond him, and was peremptory about +her superior man--so peremptory that she had probably already fixed on +the fortunate individual who would enjoy her countenance. Half an hour +later, when Bessie Fairfax was carrying off her reluctant brothers to +supper and to bed, my lady had not said all she had to say. She was +still projecting, dissenting, deciding and undoing, and the gentlemen +were still listening with patient deference. She had made magnificent +offers of help for the furtherance of their schemes, and had received +warm acknowledgments. + +"Her ladyship is bountiful as usual--for a consideration," said Mr. +Phipps, emitting a long suppressed groan of weariness, when her gracious +good-evening released them. Mr. Phipps revolted against my lady's yoke, +the others wore it with grace. Admiral Parkins said Beechhurst would be +in a poor way without her. Mr. Musgrave looked at his watch, and avowed +the same opinion. Mr. Carnegie said nothing. He knew so much good of +Lady Latimer that he had an almost unlimited indulgence for her. It was +his disposition, indeed, to be indulgent to women, to give them all the +homage and sympathy they require. + +Mr. Phipps and Mr. Carnegie quitted the rectory-garden, and crossed the +road to the doctor's house in company. Bessie Fairfax, worn out with the +emotions and fatigues of the day, had left the children to their mother +and stout Irish nurse, and had collapsed into her father's great chair +in the parlor. She sprang up as the gentlemen entered, and was about to +run away, when Mr. Phipps spread out his arms to arrest her flight. + +"Well, Cinderella, the pumpkin-coach has not come yet to fetch you +away?" said he. The application of the parable of Cinderella to her case +was Mr. Phipps's favorite joke against Bessie Fairfax. + +"No, but it is on the road. I hear the roll of the wheels and the crack +of Raton's whip," said she with a prodigious sigh. + +"So it is, Phipps--that's true! We are going to lose our Bessie," said +Mr. Carnegie, drawing her upon his knee as he sat down. + +"Poor little tomboy! A nice name Mrs. Wiley has fitted her with! And she +is going to be a lady? I should not wonder if she liked it," said Mr. +Phipps. + +"As if ladies were not tomboys too!" said she with wise scorn, half +laughing, half pouting. Then with wistfulness: "Will it be so very +different? Why should it? I hate the idea of going away from +Beechhurst!" and she laid her cheek against the doctor's rough whisker +with the caressing, confiding affection that made her so inexpressibly +dear to him. + +"Here is my big baby," said he. "A little more, and she will persuade me +to say I won't part with her." + +Bessie flashed out impetuously: "Do say so! do say so! If you won't part +with me, I won't go. Who can make us?" + +Mrs. Carnegie came into the room, serious and reasonable. She had caught +Bessie's last words, and said: "If we were to let you have your own way +now, Bessie dear, ten to one that you would live to reproach us with not +having done our duty by you. My conscience is clear that we ought to +give you up. What is your opinion, Mr. Phipps?" + +"My opinion is, Mrs. Carnegie, that when the pumpkin-coach calls for +Cinderella, she will jump in, kiss her hand to all friends in the +Forest, and drive off to Woldshire in a delicious commotion of tearful +joy and impossible expectation." + +Bessie cried out vehemently against this. + +"There, there!" said the doctor, as if he were tired, "that is enough. +Let us proclaim a truce. I forbid the subject to be mentioned again +unless I mention it. And let my word be law." + +Mr. Carnegie's word, in that house, was law. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_A RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR._ + + +The next morning Mr. Carnegie was not in imperative haste to start on +his daily circuit. The boys had to give him an account of yesterday's +fun. He heard them comfortably, and rejoiced the heart of Bessie by +telling her to be ready to ride with him at ten o'clock--her mother +could spare her. Bessie was not to wait for when the hour came. These +rides with her father were ever her chief delight. She wore a round +beaver hat with a rosette in front, and a habit of dark blue serge. +(There had been some talk of a new one for her, but now her mother +reflected that it would not be wanted.) + +It was a delicate morning, the air was light and clear, the sky gray and +silvery. Bessie rode Miss Hoyden, the doctor's little mare, and trotted +along at a brisk pace by his stout cob Brownie. She had a sense of the +keenest enjoyment in active exercise. Mr. Carnegie looked aside at her +often, his dear little Bessie, thinking, but not speaking, of the +separation that impended. Bessie's pleasure in the present was enough to +throw that into the background. She did not analyze her sensations, but +her cheeks glowed, her eyes shone, and she knew that she was happy. They +were on their way to Littlemire, where Mr. Moxon lived--a poor clergyman +with whom young Musgrave was reading. Almost as soon as they were clear +of the village they struck into a green ride through the beeches, and +cut off a great angle of the high-road, coming out again on a furzy +opening dotted with old oaks, where the black pigs of the cottagers +would by and by feast and grow fat on their common rights. It was a +lovely, damp, perilous spot, haunted by the ghost of fever and ague. The +soft, vivid turf was oozy there, and the long-rooted stones were clothed +with wet, rusted moss. The few cottages of the hamlet wore deep hoods of +thatch, and stood amongst prosperous orchards; one of them, a little +larger than the rest, being the habitation of Mr. Moxon, the vicar of +Littlemire, whose church, dame-school, and income were all of the same +modest proportions as his dwelling. He had an invalid wife and no +attraction for resident pupils, but he was thankful when he could get +one living not too far off. Young Musgrave walked from Brook twice a +week--a long four miles--to read with him. + +The lad was in the vicar's parlor when Mr. Carnegie and Bessie Fairfax +stopped at the gate. He came out with flushed brow and ruffled hair to +keep Bessie company and hold the doctor's horse while he went up stairs +with Mr. Moxon to visit his wife. That room where she lay in pain often, +in weakness always, was a mean, poorly-furnished room, with a window in +the thatch, and just a glimpse of heaven beyond, but that glimpse was +all reflected in the blessedness of her peaceful face. Mr. Moxon's +threadbare coat hung loosely on his large lean frame, like the coat of a +poor, negligent gentleman, such as he was. He had the reputation of +being a capital scholar, but he had not made the way in the world that +had been expected of him. He was vicar of Littlemire when the Reverend +Geoffry Fairfax came into the Forest, and he was vicar of Littlemire +still, with no prospect of promotion. Perhaps he did not seek it. His +wife loved this buried nook, and he loved it for her sake. Mr. Carnegie +took it often in his rides, because they called him their friend and he +could help them. They had not many besides: Lady Latimer and Mr. Phipps +did not forget them, but they were quite out of the way of the visiting +part of the community. + +"You have done with Hampton, then, Harry?" Bessie said, waiting with her +comrade at the gate. + +"Yes, so far as school goes, except that I shall always have a kindness +for the old place and the old doctor. It was a grand thing, my winning +that scholarship, Bessie." + +"And now you will have your heart's desire--you will go to Oxford." + +"Yes; Moxon is an Oxford man, and the old doctor says out-and-out the +best classic of his acquaintance. You have not seen my prize-books yet. +When are you coming to Brook, Bessie?" + +"The first time I have a chance. What are the books, Harry?" + +"All standard books--poetry," Harry said. + +The young people's voices, chiming harmoniously, sounded in Mrs. Moxon's +room. The poor suffering lady, who was extended on an inclined couch +below the window, looked down at them, and saw Harry standing at Miss +Hoyden's head, with docile Brownie's bridle on his left arm, and Bessie, +with the fine end of her slender whip, teasing the dark fuzz of his +hair. They made a pretty picture at the gate, laughing and chattering +their confidences aloud. + +"What did Harry Musgrave say to your news, Bessie?" her father asked as +they rode away from the vicar's house. + +"I forgot to tell him!" cried she, pulling up and half turning round. +"I had so much to hear." But Mr. Carnegie said it was not worth while to +bring Harry out again from his books. How fevered the lad looked! Why +did not Moxon patronize open windows? + +The road they were pursuing was a gradual long ascent, which brought +them in sight of the sea and of a vast expanse of rolling heath and +woodland. When they reached the top of the hill they breathed their +horses a few minutes and admired the view, then struck into a +bridle-track across the heath, and regained the high-road about a mile +from Beechhurst. Scudding along in front of them was the familiar figure +of Miss Wort in her work-a-day costume--a drab cloak and poke bonnet, +her back up, and limp petticoats dragging in the dust. She turned +swiftly in at the neat garden-gate that had a green space before it, +where numerous boles of trees, lopt of their branches, lay about in +picturesque confusion. A wheelwright's shed and yard adjoined the +cottage, and Mr. Carnegie, halting without dismounting, whistled loud +and shrill to call attention. A wiry, gray-headed man appeared from the +shed, and came forward with a rueful, humorous twinkle in his shrewd +blue eyes. + +"Done again, Mr. Carnegie!" said he. "The old woman's done you again. It +is no good denying her physic, for physic she will have. She went to +Hampton Infirmary last Saturday with a ticket from Miss Wort, and +brought home two bottles o' new mixture. So you see, sir, between 'em, +you're frustrated once more." + +"I am not surprised. Drugging is as bad a habit as drinking, and as hard +to leave off. Miss Wort has just gone in to your wife, so I will not +intrude. What is your son doing at present, Christie?" + +"He's about somewhere idling with his drawing-book and bits o' colors. +He takes himself off whenever it is a finer day than common. Most likely +he's gone to Great-Ash Ford. He's met with a mate there after his own +mind--an artist chap. Was you wanting him, Mr. Carnegie?" + +"There is a job of painting to do at my stable, but it can wait. Only +tell him, and he will suit his convenience." + +At this moment Miss Wort reappeared in a sort of furtive hurry. She +gave a timid, sidelong glance at the doctor, and then addressed Bessie. +Mr. Carnegie had his eye upon her: she was the thorn in his professional +flesh. She meddled with his patients--a pious woman for whom other +people's souls and internal complaints supplied the excitement absent +from her own condition and favorite literature. She had some superfluous +income and much unoccupied time, which she devoted to promiscuous +visiting and the relief (or otherwise) of her poorer and busier +neighbors. Mr. Carnegie had refused to accept the plea of her good heart +in excuse of her bad practice, and had denounced her, in a moment of +extreme irritation, as a presumptuous and mischievous woman; and Miss +Wort had publicly rejoined that she would not call in Mr. Carnegie if +she were at death's door, because who could expect a blessing on the +remedies of a man who was not a professor of religion? The most cordial +terms they affected was an armed neutrality. The doctor was never free +from suspicion of Miss Wort. Though she looked scared and deprecating, +she did not shrink from responsibility, and would administer a dose of +her own prescribing in even critical cases, and pacify the doubts and +fears of her unlucky patient with tender assurances that if it did her +no good, it could do her no harm. Men she let alone, they were safe from +her: she did not pretend to know the queer intricacies of their insides; +also their aversion for physic she had found to be invincible. + +"Two of the pills ten minutes afore dinner-time, Miss Wort, ma'am, did +you say? It is not wrote so plain on the box as it might be," cried a +plaintive treble from the cottage door. The high hedge and a great bay +tree hid Mr. Carnegie from Mrs. Christie's view, but Miss Wort, +timorously aware of his observation, gave a guilty start, and shrieking +convulsively in the direction of the voice, "Yes, yes!" rushed to the +doctor's stirrup and burst into eager explanation: + +"It is only Trotter's strengthening pills, Mr. Carnegie. The basis of +them is iron--iron or steel. I feel positive that they will be of +service to Mrs. Christie, poor thing! with that dreadful sinking at her +stomach; for I have tried them myself on similar occasions. No, Mr. +Carnegie, a crust of bread would not be more to the purpose. A crust of +bread, indeed! Dr. Thomson of Edinburgh, the famous surgeon, has the +highest opinion of Trotter." + +Mr. Carnegie's face was a picture of disgust. He would have felt himself +culpable if he had not delivered an emphatic protest against Miss Wort's +experiments. Mrs. Christie had come trembling to the gate--a +pretty-featured woman, but sallow as old parchment--and the doctor +addressed his expostulations to her. Many defeats had convinced him of +the futility of appealing to Miss Wort. + +"If you had not the digestion of an ostrich, Mrs. Christie, you would +have been killed long ago," said he with severe reprobation. "You have +devoured half a man's earnings, and spoilt as fine a constitution as a +woman need be blessed with, by your continual drugging." + +"No, Mr. Carnegie, sir--with all respect to your judgment--I never had +no constitution worth naming where constitutions come," said Mrs. +Christie, deeply affronted. "That everybody's witness as knew me afore +ever I married into the Forest. And what has kept me up since, toiling +and moiling with a husband and boys, if the drugs hasn't? I hope I'm +thankful for the blessing that has been sent with them." Miss Wort +purred her approval of these pious sentences. + +"Some day you'll be in a hurry for an antidote, Mrs. Christie: that will +be the end of taking random advice." + +"Well, sir, if so I be, my William is not the man to grudge me what's +called for. As you _are_ here, Mr. Carnegie, I should wish to have an +understanding whether you mean to provide me with doctor's stuff; if +not, I'll look elsewhere. I've not heard that Mr. Robb sets his face +against drugs yet; which it stands to reason has a use, or God Almighty +wouldn't have given them." + +Mr. Carnegie rode off with a curt rejoinder to Mrs. Christie that he +would not supply her foolish cravings, Robb or no Robb. Miss Wort was +sorry for his contempt of the divine bounties, and sought an explanation +in his conduct: "Poor fellow! he has not entered a church since Easter, +unless he walks over to Littlemire, which is not likely." + +"If he has not entered Mr. Wiley's church, I'm with him, and so is my +William," said Mrs. Christie with sudden energy. "I can't abide Mr. +Wiley. Oh, he's an arrogant man! It's but seldom he calls this way, and +I don't care if it was seldomer; for could he have spoken plainer if it +had been to a dog? 'You'd be worse if you ailed aught, Mrs. Christie,' +says he, and grins. I'd been giving him an account of the poor health I +enjoy. And my William heard him with his own ears when he all but named +Mr. Carnegie in the pulpit, and not to his credit; so he's in the right +of it to keep away. A kinder doctor there is not far nor near, for all +he has such an unaccountable prejudice against what he lives by." + +"But that is not Christian. We ought not to absent ourselves from the +holy ordinances because the clergyman happens to offend us. We ought to +bear patiently being told of our faults," urged Miss Wort, who on no +account would have allowed one of the common people to impugn the +spiritual authorities unrebuked: her own private judgment on doctrine +was another matter. + +"'Between him and thee,' yes," said Mrs. Christie, who on some points +was as sensitive and acute as a well-born woman. "But it is taking a +mean advantage of a man to talk at him when he can't answer; that's what +my William says. For if he spoke up for himself, they'd call it brawling +in church, and turn him out. He ain't liked, Miss Wort; you can't say he +is, to tell truth. Not many of the gentlemen does attend church, except +them as goes for the look o' the thing, like the old admiral and a few +more." + +Miss Wort groaned audibly, then cheered up, and with a gush of feeling +assured her humble friend that it would not be so in a better world; +_there_ all would be love and perfect harmony. And so she went on her +farther way. Mr. Carnegie and Bessie Fairfax, riding slowly, were still +in sight. The next visit Miss Wort had proposed to pay was to a scene of +genuine distress, and she saw with regret that the doctor would +forestall her. He dismounted and entered a cottage by the roadside, and +when she reached it the door was shut, Brownie's bridle hung on the +paling, and Bessie was letting Miss Hoyden crop the sweet grass on the +bank while she waited. Miss Wort determined to stay for the doctor's +exit; she had remedies in her pocket for this case also. + +Within the cottage there was a good-looking, motherly woman, and a +large-framed young man of nineteen or twenty who sat beside the fire +with a ghastly face, and hands hanging down in dark despondency. He had +the aspect of one rising from a terrible illness; in fact, he had just +come out of prison after a month's hard labor. + +"It is his mind that's worst hurt, sir," said his mother, lifting her +eyes full of tears to Mr. Carnegie's kind face. "But he has a sore pain +in his chest, too, that he never used to have." + +"Stand up, Tom, and let me have a look at you," said the doctor, and Tom +stood up, grim as death, starved, shamed, unutterably miserable. + +"Mr. Wiley's been in, but all he had to say was as he hoped Tom would +keep straight now, since he'd found out by unhappy experience as the way +of transgressors is hard," the poor woman told her visitor, breaking +into a sob as she spoke. + +Mr. Carnegie considered the lad, and told him to sit down again, then +turned to the window. His eye lit on Miss Wort Standing outside with +downcast face, and hands as if she were praying. He tapped on the glass, +and as she rushed to the door he met her with a flag of truce in the +form of a requisition for aid. + +"Miss Wort, I know you are a liberal soul, and here is a case where you +can do some real good, if you will be guided," he said firmly. "I was +going to appeal to Lady Latimer, but I have put so much on her +ladyship's kindness lately--" + +"Oh, Mr. Carnegie! I have a right to help here," interrupted Miss Wort. +"A _right_, for poor Tom was years and years in my Sunday-school class; +so he can't be very bad! Didn't Admiral Parkins and the other +magistrates say that they would rather send his master to prison than +him, if they had the power?" + +"Yes; but he has done his prison now, and the pressing business is to +keep him from going altogether to the deuce. I want him to have a good +meal of meat three or four times a week, and light garden-work--all he +is fit for now. And then we shall see what next." + +"I wo'ant list and I wo'ant emigrate; I'll stop where I am and live it +down," announced Tom doggedly. + +"Yes, yes, that is what I should expect of you, Tom," said Miss Wort. +"Then you will recover everybody's good opinion." + +"I don't heed folks' opinions, good or bad. I know what I know." + +"Well, then, get your cap, and come home to dinner with me; it is roast +mutton," said Miss Wort, as if pleading with a fractious child. + +Tom rose heavily, took his cap, and followed her out. Mr. Carnegie +watched them as they turned down a back lane to the village, the lathy +figure of the lad towering by the head and shoulders above the poke +bonnet and drab cloak of Miss Wort. He was talking with much violent +gesture of arm and fist, and she was silent. But she was not ruminating +physic. + +"Miss Wort is like one of the old saints--she is not ashamed in any +company," said Bessie Fairfax. + +"If justice were satisfied with good intentions, Miss Wort would be a +blameless woman," said her father. + +A few minutes more brought the ride to an end at the doctor's door. And +there was a messenger waiting for him with a peremptory call to a +distance. It was a very rare chance indeed that he had a whole holiday. +His reputation for skill stood high in the Forest, and his practice was +extensive in proportion. But he had health, strength, and the heart for +it; and in fact it was his prosperity that bore half the burden of his +toils. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_GREAT-ASH FORD._ + + +A week elapsed. Lady Latimer called twice on Mrs. Carnegie to offer +counsel and countenance to Bessie Fairfax. The news that she was going +to leave the doctor's house for a rise in the world spread through the +village. Mrs. Wiley and Miss Buff called with the same benevolent +intentions as my lady. Mrs. Carnegie felt this oppressive, but tried to +believe that it was kind; Bessie grew impatient, and wished she could +be let alone. Mr. Phipps laughed at her, and asked if she did not enjoy +her novel importance. Bessie rejoined with a scorny "No, indeed!" Mr. +Phipps retaliated with a grimace of incredulity. + +Mr. John Short's letter had been acknowledged, but it did not get itself +answered. Mr. Carnegie said, and said again, that there was no hurry +about it. In fact, he could not bear to look the loss of Bessie in the +face. He took her out to ride with him twice in that seven days, and +when his wife meekly urged that the affair must go on and be finished, +he replied that as Kirkham had done without Bessie for fourteen years, +it might well sustain her absence a little longer. Kirkham, however, +having determined that it was its duty to reclaim Bessie, was moved to +be imperious. As Mr. Fairfax heard nothing from his lawyer, he went into +Norminster to bid him press the thing on. Mr. John Short pleaded to give +the Carnegies longer law, and when Mr. Fairfax refused to see any +grounds for it, he suggested a visit to Beechhurst as more appropriate +than another letter. + +"Who is to go? You or I?" asked the squire testily. + +"Both, if you like. But you would do best to go alone, to see the little +girl and the good people who have taken care of her, and to let the +whole matter be transacted on a friendly footing." + +Mr. Fairfax shrank from the awkwardness of the task, from the +humiliation of it, and said, "Could not Short manage it by post, without +a personal encounter?" Mr. Short thought not. Finally, it was agreed +that if another week elapsed without bringing the promised answer from +Mrs. Carnegie, they would go to Beechhurst together and settle the +matter on the spot. + +The doctor's procrastination stole the second seven days as it had +stolen the first. + +"Those people mean to make us some difficulty," said Mr. Fairfax with +secret irritation. + +Mr. John Short gave no encouragement to this suspicion; instead, he +urged the visit to Beechhurst. "We need not give more than three days to +it--one to go, one to stay, one to return," said he. + +Mr. Fairfax objected that he disliked travelling in a fuss. The lawyer +could return when their business was accomplished; as for himself, being +in the Forest, he should make a tour of it, the weather favoring. And +thus the journey was settled. + + * * * * * + +There was not a lovelier spot within children's foot-range of Beechhurst +than Great-Ash Ford. On a glowing midsummer day it was a perfect +paradise for idlers. Not far off, yet half buried out of sight amongst +its fruit trees, was a farmhouse thatched with reeds, very old, and +weather-stained of all golden, brown, and orange tints. A row of silver +firs was in the rear, and a sweep of the softest velvety sward stretched +from its narrow domain to the river. To watch the cattle come from the +farther pastures in single file across the shallow water at milking-time +was as pretty a bit of pastoral as could be seen in all the Forest. + +Bessie Fairfax loved this spot with a peculiar affection. Beyond the +ford went a footpath, skirting the river, to the village of Brook, where +young Musgrave lived--a footpath overshadowed by such giant fir trees, +such beeches and vast oaks as are nowhere else in England. The Great Ash +was a storm-riven fragment, but its fame continued, and its beauty in +sufficient picturesqueness for artistic purposes. Many a painter had +made the old russet farmhouse his summer lodging; and one was sketching +now where the water had dried in its pebbly bed, and the adventurous +little bare feet of Jack and Willie Carnegie were tempting an imaginary +peril in quest of the lily which still whitened the stream under the +bank. + +It was not often that Bessie, with the children alone, wandered so far +afield. But the day had beguiled them, and a furtive hope that Harry +Musgrave might be coming to Beechhurst that way had given Bessie +courage. He had not been met, however, when it was time to turn their +faces towards home. The boys had their forest pony, and mounted him by +turns. It was Tom's turn now, and Bessie was leading Jerry, and carrying +the socks and boots of the other two in the skirt of her frock, gathered +up in one hand. She was a little subdued, a little downcast, it might be +with fatigue and the sultry air, or it might be with her present +disappointment; but beyond and above all wearied sensations was the jar +of unsettledness that had come into her life, and perplexed and +confused all its sweet simplicities. She made no haste, but lingered, +and let the children linger as they pleased. + +The path by the river was not properly a bridle-path, but tourists for +pleasure often lost their way in the forest, and emerged upon the roads +unexpectedly from such delicious, devious solitudes. Thus it befell +to-day when two gentlemen on horseback overtook Bessie, where she had +halted with Tom and the pony to let Jack and Willie come up. They were +drying their pink toes preparatory to putting on again their shoes and +stockings as the strangers rode by. + +"Is this the way to Beechhurst, my little gypsy?" quoth the elder of the +two, drawing rein for a moment. + +Bessie looked up with a sunburnt face under her loose fair hair. "Yes, +sir," said she. Then a sudden intelligence gleamed in her eyes, her +cheeks blazed more hotly, and she thought to herself, "It is my +grandfather!" + +The gentlemen proceeded some hundred paces in silence, and then the one +whom Bessie suspected as her grandfather said to the other, "Short, that +is the girl herself! She has the true Fairfax face as it is painted in a +score of our old portraits." + +"I believe you are right, sir. Let us be certain--let us ask her name," +proposed the lawyer. + +Bessie's little troop were now ready to march, and they set off at a +run, heedless of her cry to stop a while behind the riders, "Else we +shall be in the dust of their heels," she said. Lingering would not have +saved her, however; for the strangers were evidently purposed to wait +until she came up. Jack was now taking his turn on Jerry, and Jerry with +his head towards his stable wanted no leading or encouraging to go. He +was soon up with the gentlemen and in advance of them. Next Tom and +Willie trotted by and stood, hand-in-hand, gazing at the horses. +Bessie's feet lagged as if leaden weights were tied to them, and her +conscious air as she glanced in the face of the stranger who had +addressed her before set at rest any remaining doubt of who she was. + +"Are you Elizabeth Fairfax who lives with Mrs. Carnegie?" he asked in an +abrupt voice--the more abrupt and loud for a certain nervousness and +agitation that arose in him at the sight of the child. + +"Yes, sir, I am," replied Bessie, like a veritable echo of himself. + +"Then, as we are travelling the same road, you will be our guide, eh?" + +"The children are little; they cannot keep pace with men on horseback," +said Bessie. They were a mile and a half from Beechhurst yet. Mr. John +Short spoke hastily in an endeavor to promote an understanding, and +blundered worse than his client: his suggestion was that they might each +take up one of the bairns; but the expression of Bessie's eyes was a +reminder that she might not please to trudge at their bridle, though the +little and weak ones were to be carried. + +"You are considering who is to take you up?" hazarded Mr. Fairfax. + +Bessie recovered her countenance and said, as she would have said to any +other strangers on horseback who might have invited her to be their +guide on foot, "You cannot miss the way. It lies straight before you for +nearly a mile over the heath; then you will come to cross-roads and a +guide-post. You will be at Beechhurst long before we shall." + +The gentlemen accepted their dismissal and rode on. Was Bessie mollified +at all by the mechanical courtesy with which their hats were lifted at +their departure? They recognized, then, that she was not the little +gypsy they had hailed her. It did not enter into her imagination that +they had recognized also the true Fairfax face under her dishevelled +holiday locks, though she was persuaded that the one who had asked her +name was her wicked grandfather: that her grandfather was a wicked man +Bessie had quite made up her mind. Mr. John Short admired her behavior. +It did not chafe his dignity or alarm him for the peace of his future +life. But Mr. Fairfax was not a man of humor; he saw no fun whatever in +his prospects with that intrepid child, who had evidently inherited not +the Fairfax face only, but the warm Fairfax temper. + +"Do you suppose that she guessed who we are?" he asked his man of law. + +"Yes, but she did not add to that the probability that we knew that she +guessed it, though she looks quick enough." + +Mr. Fairfax was not flattered: "I don't love a quick woman. A quick +woman is always self-willed and wanting in feminine sweetness." + +"There was never a Fairfax yet, man or woman, of mean understanding," +said the lawyer. "Since the little girl has the family features, the +chances are that she has the family brains, and no lack of wit and +spirit." + +Mr. Fairfax groaned. He held the not uncommon opinion that wit and +spirit endanger a man's peace and rule in a house. And yet in the case +of his son Laurence's Xantippe he had evidence enough that nothing in +nature is so discordant and intractable as a fool. Then he fell into a +silence, and turned his horse off the highway upon the margin of sward +at one side of it. Mr. John Short took the other; and so Bessie and the +boys soon lost sight of them. + +It was a beautiful forest-road when they had crossed the heath. No +hedges shut it in, but here and there the great beech trees stood in +clumps or in single grace, and green rides opened vistas into cool +depths of shade which had never changed but with the seasons for many +ages. It was quite old-world scenery here. Neither clearings nor +enclosures had been thought of, and the wild sylvan beauty had all its +own perfect way. Presently there were signs of habitation. A curl of +smoke from a low roof so lost in its orchard that but for that domestic +flag it might have escaped observation altogether; a triangular green +with a pond, geese and pigs; more thatched cottages, gardens, small +fields, large hedges, high, bushy, unpruned; hedgerow trees; a lonely +little chapel in a burial-ground, a woodyard, a wheelwright's shop, a +guide-post pointing three ways, a blacksmith's forge at one side of the +road, and an old inn opposite; cows, unkempt children; white gates, +gravelled drives, chimney-pots of gentility, hidden away in bowers of +foliage. Then a glimpse of the church-tower, a sweep in the road; the +church and crowded churchyard, the rectory, the doctor's house, and a +stone's throw off the "King's Arms" at the top of the town-street, which +sloped gently all down hill. Another forge, tiled houses, shops with +queer bow-windows and steps up to the half-glazed doors, where a bell +rang when the latch was lifted. More white gates, more well-kept +shrubberies; green lanes, roads branching, curving to right and left; +and everywhere those open spaces of lawn and magnificent beech trees, +as if the old town had an unlimited forest-right to scatter its +dwellings far and wide, just as caprice or the love of beauty might +dictate. + +"This is very lovely--it is a series of delightful pictures. Only to +live here must be a sort of education," said Mr. Fairfax as they arrived +within view of the ancient church and its precincts. + +Mr. John Short saw and smelt opportunities of improvement, but he agreed +that Beechhurst for picturesqueness was most desirable. Every cottage +had its garden, and every garden was ablaze with flowers. Flowers love +that moist sun and soil, and thrive joyfully. Gayest of the gay within +its trim holly hedge was the Carnegies. The scent of roses and +mignonette suffused the warm air of evening. The doctor was going about +with a watering-pot, tending his beauties and favorites, while he +watched for the children coming home. His name and profession, set forth +on a bright brass plate, adorned the gate, from which a straight +box-edged path led to the white steps of the porch. The stable entrance +was at the side. Everything about the place had an air of well-doing and +of means enough; and the doctor himself, whom the strangers eyed +observantly from the height of their saddles, looked like his own master +in all the independence of easy circumstances. + +Visitors to the Forest were too numerous in summer to attract notice. +Mr. Carnegie lifted his head for a moment, and then continued his +assiduities to a lovely old yellow rose which had manifested delicate +symptoms earlier in the season. Next to his wife and children the doctor +was fond of roses. The travellers rode past to the door of the "King's +Arms," and there dismounted. Half an hour after they were dining in an +up-stairs, bow-windowed room which commanded a cheerful prospect up and +down the village street, with a view of the church opposite and a side +glance of Mr. Carnegie's premises. They witnessed the return of Bessie +and the boys, and the fatherly help and reception they had. They saw the +doctor lift up Bessie's face to look at her, saw him pat her on the +shoulder encouragingly as she made him some brief communication, saw him +open the door and send her into the house, and then hurry round to the +stable to prevent the boys lingering while Jerry was rubbed down. He +had leisure and the heart, it seemed, for all such offices of kindness, +and his voice was the signal of instant obedience. + +Later in the evening they were all out in the garden--Mrs. Carnegie too. +One by one the children were dismissed to bed, and when only Bessie was +left, the doctor filled his pipe and had a smoke, walking to and fro +under the hedge, over which he conversed at intervals with passing +neighbors. His wife and Bessie sat in the porch. The only thing in all +this that Mr. Fairfax could except to was the doctor's clay pipe. He +denounced smoking as a low, pernicious habit; the lawyer, more tolerant, +remarked that it was an increasing habit and good for the revenue, but +bad for him: he believed that many a quarrel that might have ripened +into a lawsuit had prematurely collapsed in the philosophy that comes of +tobacco-smoke. + +"Perhaps it would prepare me with equanimity to meet my adversary," said +Mr. Fairfax. + +Mr. John Short had not intended to give the conversation this turn. He +feared that his client was working himself into an unreasonable humor, +in which he would be ready to transfer to Mr. Carnegie the reproaches +that were due only to himself. He was of a suspicious temper, and had +already insinuated that the people who had kept his grandchild must have +done it from interested and ulterior motives. The lawyer could not see +this, but he did see that if Mr. Fairfax was bent on making a contest of +what might be amicably arranged, no power on earth could hinder him. For +though it proverbially takes two to make a quarrel, the doctor did not +look as if he would disappoint a man of sharp contention if he sought +it. The soft word that turns away anger would not be of his speaking. + +"It will be through sheer mismanagement if there arise a hitch," Mr. +John Short said. "You desire to obtain possession of the child--then you +must go quietly about it. She is of an age to speak for herself, and our +long neglect may well have forfeited our claim. She is not your +immediate successor; there are infinite possibilities in the lives of +your two sons. If the case were dragged before the courts, she might be +given her choice where she would live; and if she has a heart she would +stay at Beechhurst, with her father's widow--and we are baulked." + +"What right has a woman to call herself a man's widow when she has +married again?" objected Mr. Fairfax. + +"Mrs. Carnegie's acknowledgment of our letter was courteous: we are on +the safe side yet," said the lawyer smoothly. "Suppose I continue the +negotiation by seeking an interview with her to-morrow morning?" + +"Have your own way. I am of no use, it seems. I wish I had stayed at +Abbotsmead and had let you come alone." + +Mr. John Short echoed the wish with all his heart, though he did not +give his thoughts tongue. He began to conjecture that some new aspect of +the affair had been presented to his client's mind by the encounter with +Elizabeth in the Forest. And he was right. The old squire had conceived +for her a sort of paradoxical love at first sight, and was become +suddenly jealous of all who had an established hold on her affections. +Here was the seed of an unforeseen complication, which was almost sure +to become inimical to Bessie's happiness when he obtained the guidance +of her life. + +When Mr. Carnegie's pipe was out the sunset was past and the evening +dews were falling. Nine had struck by the kitchen clock, supper was on +the table, and the lamp was shedding its light through the open window. + +"Come in, mother, come in, Bessie," said the doctor. "And, Bessie, let +us hear over again what was your adventure this afternoon?" + +Bessie sat down before her cup of new milk and slice of brown bread, and +told her simple tale a second time. It had been rather pooh-poohed the +first, but it had made an impression. Said Mr. Carnegie: "And you jumped +to the conclusion that this gentleman unknown was your grandfather, even +before he asked your name? Now to describe him." + +"He came from Hampton, because he rode Jefferson's old gray mare, and +the other rode the brown horse with white socks. He is a little like +Admiral Parkins--neither fat nor thin. He has white hair and a red and +brown color. He looks stern and as proud as Lucifer" (Mrs. Carnegie gave +Bessie a reproving glance), "and his voice sounds as if he were. Perhaps +he _could_ be kind--" + +"You don't flatter him in his portrait, Bessie. Apparently you did not +take to him?" + +"Not at all. I don't believe we shall ever be friends." + +"Bessie dear, you must not set your mind against Mr. Fairfax," +interposed her mother. "Don't encourage her in her nonsense and +prejudice, Thomas; they'll only go against her." + +"Now for your grandfather's companion, Bessie: what was he like?" + +"I did not notice. He was like everybody else--like Mr. Judson at the +Hampton Bank." + +"That would be our correspondent, the lawyer, Mr. John Short of +Norminster." + +Mr. Carnegie dropt the subject after this. His wife launched at him a +deprecating look, as much as to say, Would there not be vexation enough +for them all, without encouraging Bessie to revolt against lawful +authority? The doctor, who was guided more than he knew, thereupon held +his peace. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_AGAINST HER INCLINATION._ + + +Mr. Fairfax was not a man of sentimental recollections. Nevertheless, it +did occur to him, as the twilight deepened, that somewhere in the +encumbered churchyard that he was looking down upon lay his son Geoffry +and Geoffry's first wife, Elizabeth. He felt a very lonely old man as he +thought of it. None of his sons' marriages were to boast of, but +Geoffry's, as it turned out, was the least unfortunate of any--Geoffry's +marriage with Elizabeth Bulmer, that is. If he had not approved of that +lady, he had tolerated her--pity that he had not tolerated her a little +more! The Forest climate had not suited the robust young Woldshire folk. +Once Geoffry had appealed to his father to help him to change his +benefice, but had experienced a harsh refusal. This was after Elizabeth +had suffered from an attack of rheumatism and ague, when she longed to +escape from the lovely, damp screens of the Forest to fresh Wold +breezes. She died, and Geoffry took another wife. Then he died of what +was called in the district marsh-fever. Mr. Fairfax was not impervious +to regret, but no regret would bring them to life again. + +The next morning, while the dew was on the grass, he made his way into +the churchyard, and sought about for Geoffry's grave. He discovered it +in a corner, marked by a plain headstone and shaded by an elder bush. It +was the stone Geoffry had raised in memory of his Elizabeth, and below +her name his was inscribed, with the date of his death. The churchyard +was all neatly kept--this grave not more neatly than the others. Mrs. +Carnegie's affections had flowed into other channels, and Bessie had no +turn for meditation amongst the tombs. Mr. Fairfax felt rather more +forlorn after he had seen his son's last home than before, and might +have sunk into a fit of melancholy but for the diversion of his mind to +present matters. Just across the road Mr. Carnegie was mounting his +horse for his morning ride to the union workhouse, and Bessie was at the +gate seeing him off. + +The little girl was not at all tired, flushed, or abstracted now. She +was cheerful as a lark, fresh, fair, rosy--more like a Fairfax than +ever. But when she caught sight of her grandfather over the churchyard +wall, she put on her grave airs and mentioned the fact to Mr. Carnegie. +Mr. John Short had written already to bespeak an interview with Bessie's +guardian, and to announce the arrival of Mr. Fairfax at the "King's +Arms." But at the same moment had come an imperative summons from the +workhouse, and Mr. Carnegie was not the doctor to neglect a sick poor +man for any business with a rich one that could wait. He had bidden his +wife receive the lawyer, and was leaving her to appoint the time when +Bessie directed his attention to her grandfather. With a sudden movement +he turned his horse, touched his hat with his whip-handle, and said, +"Sir, are you Mr. Fairfax?" The stranger assented. "Then here is our +Bessie, your granddaughter, ready to make your acquaintance. My wife +will see your agent. As for myself, I have an errand elsewhere this +morning." With that, and a reassuring nod to Bessie, the doctor started +off at a hard trot, and the two, thus summarily introduced, stood +confronting one another with a wall, the road, and a gate between them. +There was an absurdity in the situation that Bessie felt very keenly, +and blushes, mirth, and vexation flowed over her tell-tale visage as she +waited holding the gate, willing to obey if her grandfather called her, +or to stay till he came. + +By a singular coincidence, while they were at a halt what to do or say, +Lady Latimer advanced up the village street, having walked a mile from +her house at Fairfield since breakfast. She was an early riser and a +great walker: her life must have been half as long again as the lives of +most ladies from the little portion of it she devoted to rest. She was +come to Beechhurst now on some business of school, or church, or parish, +which she assumed would, unless by her efforts, soon be at a deadlock. +But years will tell on the most vigorous frames, and my lady looked so +jaded that, if she had fallen in with Mr. Carnegie, he would have +reminded her, for her health's sake, that no woman is indispensable. She +gave Bessie that sweet smile which was flattering as a caress, and was +about to pass on when something wistful in the child's eyes arrested her +notice. She stopped and asked if there was any more news from Woldshire. +Bessie's round cheeks were two roses as she replied that her grandfather +Fairfax had come--that he was _there_ at the very moment, watching them +from the churchyard. + +"Where?" said my lady, and turned about to see. + +Mr. Fairfax knew her. He descended the steps, came out at the lych-gate, +and met her. At that instant the cast of his countenance reminded Bessie +of her cynical friend Mr. Phipps, and a thought crossed her mind that if +Lady Latimer had not recognized her grandfather and made a movement to +speak, he would not have challenged her. It would have seemed a very +remote period to Bessie, but it did not seem so utterly out of date to +themselves, that Richard Fairfax in his adolescence had almost run mad +for love of my lady in her teens. She had not reciprocated his passion, +and in a fit of desperation he had married his wife, the mother of his +three sons. Perhaps the cool affection he had borne them all his life +was the measure of his indifference to that poor lady, and that +indifference the measure of his vindictive constancy to his first idol. +They had not seen each other for many years; their courses had run far +apart, and they had grown old. But a woman never quite forgets to feel +interested in a man who has once worshipped her, though he may long +since have got up off his knees and gone and paid his devotions at other +shrines. Lady Latimer had not been so blessed in her life and affections +that she could afford to throw away even a flattering memory. Bessie's +talk of her grandfather had brought the former things to her mind. Her +face kindled at the sight of her friend, and her voice was the soul of +kindness. Mr. Fairfax looked up and pitied her, and lost his likeness to +Mr. Phipps. Ambitious, greedy of power, of rank, and riches--thus and +thus had he once contemned her; but there was that fascinating smile, +and so she would charm him if they met some day in Hades. + + * * * * * + +Bessie went in-doors to apprise her mother of the visitors who were at +hand. Mr. Fairfax and Lady Latimer stood for a quarter of an hour or +longer in the shade of the churchyard trees, exchanging news, the chief +news being the squire's business at Beechhurst. Lady Latimer offered him +her advice and countenance for his granddaughter, and assured him that +Bessie had fine qualities, much simplicity, and the promise of beauty. +Meanwhile Mrs. Carnegie, forewarned of the impending interview, +collected herself and prepared for it. She sent Bessie into the +rarely-used drawing-room to pull up the blinds and open the glass door +upon the lawn; and, further to occupy the nervous moments, bade her +gather a few roses for the china bowl on the round table. Bessie had +just finished her task, and was standing with a lovely Devoniensis in +her hand, when her grandfather appeared, supported by Lady Latimer. + +Mr. Fairfax was received by Mrs. Carnegie with courtesy, but without +effusion. It was the anxious desire of her heart that no ill-will should +arise because of Bessie's restoration. She was one of those unaffected, +reasonable, calm women whom circumstances rarely disconcert. Then her +imagination was not active. She did not pensively reflect that here was +her once father-in-law, but she felt comfortable in the consciousness +that Bessie had on a nice clean pink gingham frock and a crimped frill +round her white throat, in which she looked as pretty as she could look. +Bessie's light hair, threaded with gold, all crisp and wavy, and her +pure bright complexion, gave her an air of health and freshness not to +be surpassed. Her beauty was not too imposing--it was of everyday; and +though her wicked grandfather seemed to frown at her with his bushy gray +brows, and to search her through with his cold keen eyes, he was not +displeased by her appearance. He was gratified that she took after his +family. Bessie's expression as she regarded him again made him think of +that characteristic signature of her royal namesake, "Yours, as you +demean yourself, ELIZABETH," and he framed a resolution to +demean himself with all the humility and discretion at his command. He +experienced an impulse of affection towards her stronger than anything +he had ever felt for his sons: perhaps he discerned in her a more +absolute strain of himself. His sons had all taken after their mother. + +Mrs. Carnegie's reception propitiated Mr. Fairfax still further. She +said a few words in extenuation of the delay there had been in replying +to his communication through Mr. John Short; and he was able to reply, +even sincerely, that he was glad it had occurred, since it had +occasioned his coming to the Forest. Bessie reddened; she had an almost +irresistible desire to say something gruff--she abominated these +compliments. She was vexed that Lady Latimer should be their witness, +and bent her brows fiercely. My lady did not understand the signs of her +temper. She was only amused by the flash of that harmless fire, and +serenely interposed to soothe and encourage the little girl. Oh, if she +could have guessed how she was offending! + +"Can you spare Bessie for a few hours, Mrs. Carnegie? If you can, I will +carry her off to luncheon at Fairfield. Mr. Fairfax, whom I knew when I +was not much more than her age, will perhaps come too?" said my lady, +and Mr. Fairfax assented. + +But tears rushed to Bessie's eyes, and she would have uttered a most +decisive "No," had not Mrs. Carnegie promptly answered for her that it +was a nice plan. "Your dress is quite sufficient, Bessie," added my +lady, and she was sent up stairs to put on her hat. Did she stamp her +angry little foot as she obeyed? Probably. And she cried, for to go to +Fairfield thus was horribly against her inclination. Nevertheless, half +an hour later, when my lady had transacted the business that brought +her to Beechhurst so opportunely, Bessie found herself walking gently +along the road at her side, and on her other hand her wicked +grandfather, chatting of a variety of past events in as disengaged and +pleasant a fashion as an old gentleman of sixty-five, fallen +unexpectedly into the company of an old friend, could do. As Bessie +cooled down, she listened and began to speculate whether he might +possibly be not so altogether wicked as his recent misbehavior had led +her to conclude; then she began to think better things of him in a +general way, but unfortunately it did not occur to her that he might +possibly have conceived a liking to herself. Love, that best solvent of +difficulties, was astray between them from the beginning. + +Bessie was not invited to talk, but Lady Latimer gave her a kind glance +at intervals. Yet for all this encouragement her heart went pit-a-pat +when they came in sight of Fairfield; for about the gate was gathered a +group of young ladies--to Bessie's imagination at this epoch the most +formidable of created beings. There was one on horseback, a most +playful, sweet Margaret, who was my lady's niece; and another, a +dark-eyed, pretty thing, cuddling a brisk brown terrier--Dora and Dandy +they were; and a tall, graceful Scotch lassie, who ran to meet Lady +Latimer, and fondled up to her with the warmest affection; and two +little girls besides, sisters to Dora, very frank to make friends. Each +had some communication in haste for my lady, who, when she could get +leave to speak, introduced her niece to Mr. Fairfax, and recommended +Bessie to the attention of her contemporaries. Forthwith they were +polite. Dora offered Dandy to Bessie's notice; Margaret courted +admiration for Beauty; the others looked on with much benevolence, and +made cordial remarks and lively rejoinders. Bessie was too shy to enjoy +their affability; she felt awkward, and looked almost repulsively proud. +The younger ones gradually subsided. Margaret had often met Bessie +riding with Mr. Carnegie, and they knew each other to bow to. Bessie +patted Beauty's neck and commended her--a great step towards +friendliness with her mistress--and Margaret said enthusiastically, "Is +she not a darling? She shall have sugar, she shall! Oh, Aunt Olympia, +Beauty went so well to-day!" Then to Bessie: "That is a handsome little +mare you ride: what a sharp trot you go at sometimes!" + +"It is my father's pace--we get over the ground fast. Miss Hoyden, she +is called--she is almost thoroughbred." + +"You ride, Elizabeth? That is a good hearing," said Mr. Fairfax. "You +shall have a Miss Hoyden at Abbotsmead." + +Bessie colored and turned her head for a moment, but said nothing. +Margaret whispered that _would_ be nice. Poor Bessie's romance was now +known to the young ladies of the neighborhood, and she was more +interesting to them than she knew. + +Lady Latimer led the way with Mr. Fairfax up the drive overhung with +flowering trees and bushes. On the steps before the open hall-door stood +Mr. Wiley, whom my lady had bidden to call and stay to luncheon when his +pastoral visits brought him into the vicinity of Fairfield. He caught +sight of his young neighbor, Bessie Fairfax, and on the instant, with +that delicious absence of tact which characterized him, he asked +brusquely, "How came _you_ here?" Bessie blushed furiously, and no one +answered--no one seemed to hear but herself; so Mr. Wiley added +confidentially, "It is promotion indeed to come to Fairfield. Keep +humble, Bessie." + +"Wait for me, Miss Fairfax," said Margaret as she dismounted. "Come to +my room." And Bessie went without a word, though her lips were laughing. +She was laughing at herself, at her incongruousness, at her trivial +mortifications. Margaret would set her at her ease, and Bessie learnt +that she had a rare charm in her hair, both from its color and the +manner of its growth. It was lovely, Margaret told her, and pressed its +crisp shining abundance with her hand delicately. + +"That is a comfort in adverse circumstances," said Bessie with a light +in her eyes. Then they ran down stairs to find the morning-room deserted +and all the company gone in to luncheon. + +The elders of the party were placed at a round table, a seat for Bessie +being reserved by Lady Latimer. Two others were empty, into one of which +dropt Margaret; the other was occupied by Mr. Bernard, the squire of the +next parish, to whom Margaret was engaged. Their marriage, in fact, was +close at hand, and Beechhurst was already devising its rejoicings for +the wedding-day. + +The little girls were at a side-table, sociable and happy in under +tones. Bessie believed that she might have been happy too--at any rate, +not quite so miserable--if Mr. Wiley had not been there to lift his +brows and intimate surprise at the honor that was done her. She hated +her exaltation. She quoted inwardly, "They that are low need fear no +fall," and trembled for what he might be moved to say next. There was a +terrible opportunity of silence, for at first nobody talked. A crab of +brobdignagian proportions engrossed the seniors. Bessie and the younger +ones had roast lamb without being asked what they would take, and +Bessie, all drawbacks notwithstanding, found herself capable of eating +her dinner. The stillness was intense for a few minutes. Bessie glanced +at one or two of the intent faces preparing crab with a close devotion +to the process that assured satisfaction in the result, and then she +caught Lady Latimer's eye. They both smiled, and suddenly the talk broke +out all round; my lady beginning to inquire of the rector concerning +young Musgrave of Brook, whether he knew him. Bessie listened with +breathless interest to this mention of her dear comrade. + +"Yes, I know him, in a way--a clever youth, ambitious of a college +education," said Mr. Wiley. "I have tried my best to dissuade him, but +his mind is bent on rising in the world. Like little Christie, the +wheelwright's son, who must be an artist." + +"Why discourage young Musgrave? I heard from his father a few days ago +that he had won a scholarship at Hampton worth fifty pounds a year, +tenable for three years." + +"That is news, indeed! Moxon has coached him well: I sent him to poor +Moxon. He wanted to read with me, but--you understand--I could not +exactly receive him while Lord Rafferty and Mr. Duffer are in my house. +So I sent him to poor Moxon, who is glad of a pupil when he can get +one." + +"I wish Mr. Moxon better preferment. As for young Musgrave, he must have +talent. I was driving through Brook yesterday, and I called at the +manor-house. The mother is a modest person of much natural dignity. The +son was out. I left a message that I should be glad to see him, and do +something for him, if he would walk over to Fairfield." + +"He will not come, I warrant," exclaimed Mr. Wiley. "He is a radical +fellow, and would say, as soon as look at you, that he had no wish to be +encumbered with patronage." + +"He would not say so to Lady Latimer," cried Bessie Fairfax. Her voice +rang clear as a bell, and quite startled the composed, refined +atmosphere. Everybody looked at her with a smile. My lady exchanged a +glance with her niece. + +"Then young Musgrave is a friend of yours?" she said, addressing her +little guest. + +"We are cousins," was Bessie's unhesitating reply. + +"I was not aware of it," remarked her grandfather drily. + +Bessie was not daunted. Mrs. Musgrave was Mrs. Carnegie's elder sister. +Young Musgrave and the young Carnegies called cousins, and while she was +one of the Carnegies she was a cousin too. Besides, Harry Musgrave was +the nephew of her father's second wife, and their comradeship dated from +his visits to the rectory while her father was alive. She did not offer +explanations, but in her own mind she peremptorily refused to deny or +relinquish that cousinship. She went on eating in a dream of confusion, +very rosy as to the cheeks and very downcast as to the eyes, but not at +all ashamed. The little girls wondered with great amazement. Mr. Wiley +did not relish his rebuke, and eyed Bessie with anything but charity. +His bad genius set him expatiating further on the hazardous theme of +ambition in youths of low birth and mean estate, with allusions to Brook +and the wheelwright's shed that could not be misunderstood. Mr. Fairfax, +observing his granddaughter, felt uneasy. Lady Latimer generalized to +stop the subject. Suddenly said Bessie, flashing at the rector, and +quoting Mr. Carnegie, "You attribute to class what belongs to +character." Then, out of her own irrepressible indignation, she added, +"Harry Musgrave is as good a gentleman as you are, and little Christie +too, though he may be only a carpenter's son." (Which was not saying +much for them, as Mr. Phipps remarked when he was told the story.) + +Lady Latimer stood up and motioned to all the young people to come away. +They vanished in retiring, some one road, some another, and for the +next five minutes Bessie was left with my lady alone, angry and +exquisitely uncomfortable, but not half alive yet to the comic aspect of +her very original behavior. She glanced with shy deprecation in Lady +Latimer's face, and my lady smiled with a perfect sympathy in her +sensations. + +"You are not afraid to speak up for an absent friend, but silence is the +best answer to such impertinences," said she, and then went on to talk +of Abbotsmead and Kirkham till Bessie was almost cheated of her +distressing self-consciousness. + +Fairfield was a small house, but full of prettiness. Bessie Fairfax had +never seen anything so like a picture as the drawing-room, gay with +flowers, perfumed, airy, all graceful ease and negligent comfort. From a +wide-open glass door a flight of steps descended to the rose-garden, now +in its beauty. Paintings, mirrors decorated the walls; books strewed the +tables. There were a hundred things, elegant, grotesque, and useless, to +look at and admire. How vivid, varied, delicious life must be thus +adorned! Bessie thought, and lost herself a little while in wonder and +curiosity. Then she turned to Lady Latimer again. My lady had lost +herself in reverie too; her countenance had an expression of weary +restlessness and unsatisfied desire. No doubt she had her private cares. +Bessie felt afraid, as if she had unwittingly surprised a secret. + +Visitors were announced. The gentlemen came from the dining-room. Mr. +Bernard and Margaret appeared from the rose-garden. So did some of the +little girls, and invited Bessie down the steps. There was a general hum +of voices and polite laughter. More visitors, more conversation, more +effort. Bessie began to feel tired of the restraint, and looked up to +her grandfather, who stood in the doorway talking to Margaret. The next +minute he came to her, and said, with as much consideration as if she +were a grown-up person, "You have had enough of this, Elizabeth. It is +time we were returning to Beechhurst." + +Margaret understood. "You wish to go? Come, then; I will take you to my +room to put on your hat," said she. + +They escaped unnoticed except by Lady Latimer. She followed them for a +hasty minute, and began to say, "Margaret I have been thinking that +Bessie Fairfax will do very well to take Winny's place as bridesmaid +next week, since Winny cannot possibly come." + +"Oh no, no, no!" cried Bessie, clasping her hands in instant, pleading +alarm. + +Margaret laughed and bade her hush. "Nobody contradicts Aunt Olympia," +she said in a half whisper. + +"I will speak to Mr. Fairfax and arrange it at once," Lady Latimer +added, and disappeared to carry out her sudden intention. + +Bessie reiterated her prayer to be left alone. "You will do very well. +You are very nice," rejoined Margaret, not at all understanding her +objections. "White over blue and blue bonnets are the bridesmaids' +colors. My cousin Winny has caught the measles. Her dress will fit you, +but Aunt Olympia's maid will see to all that. You must not refuse me." + +When they went down stairs Bessie found that her grandfather had +accepted for her Lady Latimer's invitation, and that he had also +accepted for himself an invitation to the wedding. Nor yet were the +troubles of the day over. + +"Are you going to walk?" said Mr. Wiley, coming out into the hall. "Then +I shall have much pleasure in walking with you. Our roads are the same." + +Bessie's dismay was so evident as to be ludicrous. Mr. Wiley was either +very forgiving or very pachydermatous. Lady Latimer kissed her, and +whispered a warning "Take care!" and she made a sign of setting a watch +on her lips. + +"So you will not have to be a teacher, after all, Bessie?" the judicious +rector took occasion to say the moment they were clear of Fairfield. Mr. +Fairfax listened. Bessie felt hot and angry: what need was there to +inflict this on her grandfather? "Was it a dressmaker or a +school-mistress Lady Latimer last proposed to make of you? I forget," +said Mr. Wiley with an air of guileless consideration as he planted his +thorn. + +"I never heard that there was any idea of dressmaking: I am not fond of +my needle," said Bessie curtly. + +"Yes, there was. Her ladyship spoke of it to Mrs. Wiley. We hoped that +you might be got into Madame Michaud's establishment at Hampton to +learn the business. She is first-class. My wife patronizes her." + +"I wish people would mind their own business." + +"There is no harm done. But the remembrance of what you have been saved +from should keep you meek and lowly in spirit, Bessie. I have been +grieved to-day, _deeply grieved_, to see that you already begin to feel +uplifted." Mr. Wiley dwelt in unctuous italics on his regret, and waved +his head slowly in token of his mournfulness. Bessie turned scarlet and +held her peace. + +"You must be very benevolent people here," said Mr. Fairfax +sarcastically. "Is Mr. Carnegie so poor and helpless a man that his kind +neighbors must interfere to direct his private affairs?" + +Mr. Wiley's eyes glittered as he replied, parrying the thrust and +returning it: "No, no, but he has a large and increasing family of his +own; and with little Bessie thrown entirely on his hands besides, +friends might well feel anxious how she was to be provided for--Lady +Latimer especially, who interests herself for all who are in need. Her +ladyship has a great notion that women should be independent." + +"My father is perfectly able and perfectly willing to do everything that +is necessary for his children. No one would dream of meddling with us +who knew him," cried Bessie impetuously. Her voice shook, she was so +annoyed that she was in tears. Mr. Fairfax took her hand, squeezed it +tight, and retained it as they walked on. She felt insulted for her +dear, good, generous father. She was almost sobbing as she continued in +his praise: "He has insured his life for us. I have heard him say that +we need never want unless by our own fault. And the little money that +was left for me when my real father died has never been touched: it was +put into the funds to save up and be a nest-egg for me when I marry." + +Mr. Wiley's teeth gleamed his appreciation of this _naive_ bit of +information. And even her grandfather could not forbear a smile, though +he was touched. "I am convinced that you have been in good hands, +Elizabeth," said he warmly. "It was not against Mr. Carnegie that any +neglect of natural duty was insinuated, but against me." + +Bessie looked down and sighed. Mr. Wiley deprecated the charge of +casting blame anywhere. Mr. Fairfax brusquely turned the conversation to +matters not personal--to the forest-laws, the common-rights and +enclosure acts--and Bessie kept their pace, which quickened +imperceptibly, ruminating in silence her experiences of the day. +Mortification mingled with self-ridicule was uppermost. To be a +bridesmaid amongst the grand folks at Fairfield--could anything be more +absurdly afflicting? To be a seamstress at Madame Michaud's--the odious +idea of it! Poor Bessie, what a blessing to her was her gift of humor, +her gift for seeing the laughable side of things and people, and +especially the laughable side of herself and her trials! + +Mr. Wiley was shaken off on the outskirts of the village, where a +ragged, unkempt laborer met him, and insisted on exchanging civilities +and conventional objections to the weather. "We wants a shower, parson." + +"A shower! You're _wet_ enough," growled Mr. Wiley with a gaze of severe +reprobation. "And you were drunk on Sunday." + +"Yes! I'se wet every day, and at my own expense, too," retorted the +delinquent with a grin. + +Mr. Fairfax and Bessie walked on to the "King's Arms," and there for the +present said good-bye. Bessie ran home to tell her adventures, but on +the threshold she met a check in the shape of Jack, set to watch for her +return and tell her she was wanted. Mr. John Short was come, and was +with Mrs. Carnegie in the drawing-room. + +"I say, Bessie, you are not going away, are you?" asked the boy, laying +violent hands on her when he had acquitted himself of his message. +"Biddy says you are. I say you sha'n't." + +Mrs. Carnegie heard her son's unabashed voice in the hall, and opening +the door, she invited Bessie in. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_HER FATE IS SEALED._ + + +Mr. John Short rose as Miss Fairfax entered, and bowed to her with +deference. Bessie, being forbidden by her mother to retreat, sat down +with ostentatious resignation to bear what was to come. But her bravado +was not well enough grounded to sustain her long. The preliminaries were +already concluded when she arrived, and Mrs. Carnegie was giving +utterance to her usual regret that her dear little girl had not been +taught to speak French or play on the piano. Mr. Fairfax's +plenipotentiary looked grave. His own daughters were perfect in those +accomplishments--"Indispensable to the education of a finished +gentlewoman," he said. + +Thereupon Bessie, still in excited spirits, delivered her mind with +considerable force and freedom. "It is nonsense to talk of making me a +finished gentlewoman," she added: "I don't care to be anything but a +woman of sense." + +Mr. John Short answered her shrewdly: "There is no reason why you should +not be both, Miss Fairfax. A woman of sense considers the fitness of +things. And at Abbotsmead none but gentlewomen are at home." + +Bessie colored and was silent. "We have been proposing that you should +go to school for a year or two, dear," said Mrs. Carnegie persuasively. +Tears came into Bessie's eyes. The lawyer's letter had indeed mentioned +school, but she had not anticipated that the cruel suggestion would be +carried out. + +"Shall it be an English school or a school in France?" said Mr. Short, +taking the indulgent cue, to avoid offence and stave off resistance. But +his affectation of meekness was more provoking than his sarcasm. Bessie +fired up indignantly at such unworthy treatment. + +"You are deciding and settling everything without a word to my father. +How do you know that he will let me go away? I don't want to go," she +said. + +"That _is_ settled, Bessie darling. _You have to go_--so don't get angry +about it," said Mrs. Carnegie with firmness. "You may have your choice +about a school at home or abroad, and that is all. Now be good, and +consider which you would like best." + +Bessie's tears overflowed. "I hate girls!" she said with an asperity +that quite shamed her mother, "they are so silly." Mr. John Short with +difficulty forbore a smile. "And they don't like me!" she added with +gusty wrath. "I never get on with girls, never! I don't know what to say +to them. And when they find out that I can't speak French or play on the +piano, they will laugh at me." Her own countenance broke into a laugh as +she uttered the prediction, but she laughed with tears still in her +eyes. + +The lawyer nodded his head in a satisfied way. "It will all come right +in time," said he. "If you can make fun of the prospect of school, the +reality will not be very terrible to a young lady of your courageous +temper." + +Poor Bessie was grave again in an instant. She felt that she had let her +fate slip out of her hands. She could not now declare her refusal to go +to school at all; she could only choose what kind of school she would go +to. "If it must be one or another, let it be French," she said, and +rushed from the room in a tempestuous mood. + +Mrs. Carnegie excused her as very affectionate, and as tired and +overdone. She looked tired and overdone herself, and out of spirits as +well. Mr. John Short said a few sympathetic words, and volunteered a few +reasonable pledges for the future, and then took his leave--the kindest +thing he could do, since thus he set the mother at liberty to go and +comfort her child. Her idea of comforting and Bessie's idea of being +comforted consisted, for the nonce, in having a good cry together. + + * * * * * + +When his agent came to explain to Mr. Fairfax how far he had carried his +negotiations for his granddaughter's removal from Beechhurst, the squire +demurred. The thorn which Mr. Wiley had planted in his conscience was +rankling sorely; his pride was wounded too--perhaps that was more hurt +even than his conscience--but he felt that he had much to make up to the +child, not for his long neglect only, but for the indignities that she +had been threatened with. She might have been apprenticed to a trade; he +might have had to negotiate with some shopkeeper to cancel her +indentures. He did not open his mind to Mr. John Short on this matter; +he kept it to himself, and made much more of it in his imagination than +it deserved. Bessie had already forgotten it, except as a part of the +odd medley that her life seemed coming to, and in the recollection it +never vexed her; but it was like a grain of sand in her grandfather's +eye whenever he reviewed the incidents of this time. He gathered from +the lawyer's account of the interview how little acceptable to Bessie +was the notion of being sent to school, and asked why she should not go +to Abbotsmead at once? + +"There is no reason why she should not go to Abbotsmead if you will have +a lady in the house--a governess," said Mr. John Short. + +"I will have no governess in the house; I suppose she is too young to be +alone?" + +"Well, yes. Mrs. Carnegie would not easily let her go unless in the +assurance that she will be taken care of. She has been a good deal +petted and spoiled. She is a fine character, but she would give you +nothing but trouble if you took her straight home." + +Lady Latimer, with whom Mr. Fairfax held further counsel, expressed much +the same opinion. She approved of Elizabeth, but it was impossible to +deny that she had too much self-will, that she was too much of the +little mistress. She had been sovereign in the doctor's house; to fall +amongst her equals in age and seniors in school would be an excellent +discipline. Mr. Fairfax acquiesced, and two or three years was the term +of purgatory to which Bessie heard herself condemned. It was no use +crying. My lady encouraged her to anticipate that she would be very +tolerably happy at school. She was strong enough not to mind its +hardships; some girls suffered miserably from want of health, but she +had vigor and spirits to make the best of circumstances. Bessie was +flattered by this estimate of her pluck, but all the same she preferred +to avert her thoughts from the contemplation of the strange future that +was to begin in September. It was July now, and a respite was to be +given her until September. + +Mr. John Short--his business done--returned to Norminster, and Mr. +Fairfax and Mr. Carnegie met. They were extremely distant in their +behavior. Mr. Carnegie refused to accept any compensation for the +charges Bessie had put him to, and made Mr. Fairfax wince at his +information that the child had earned her living twice over by her +helpfulness in his house. He did not mean to be unkind, but only to set +forth his dear little Bessie's virtues. + +"She will never need to go a-begging, Bessie won't," said he. "She can +turn her hand to most things in a family. She has capital sense, and a +warm heart for those who can win it." + +Mr. Fairfax bowed solemnly, as not appreciating this catalogue of homely +graces. The doctor looked very stern. He had subdued his mind to the +necessity, but he felt his loss in every fibre of his affections. No +one, except Bessie herself, half understood the sacrifice he was put +upon making, for he loved her as fondly as if she had been his very own; +and he knew that once divided from his household she never would be like +his own again. But her fate was settled, and the next event in her +experience seemed to set a seal upon it. + +The day Mr. John Short left the Forest, Beechhurst began to set up its +arches and twine its garlands for the wedding of Lady Latimer's niece. +Bessie made a frantic effort to escape from the bridesmaid's honors that +were thrust upon her, but met with no sympathy except from her father, +and even he did not come to her rescue. He bade her never mind, it would +soon be over. One sensible relief she had in the midst of her fantastic +distress: Harry Musgrave was away, and would not see her in her +preposterous borrowed plumes. He had gone with Mr. Moxon on a week's +excursion to Wells, and would not return until after the wedding. Bessie +was full of anxieties how her dear old comrade would treat her now. She +found some people more distant and respectful, she did not wish that +Harry should be more respectful--that would spoil their intercourse. + +Jolly Miss Buff was an immense help, stay, and comfort to her little +friend till through this perplexing ordeal. She was full of harmless +satire. She proposed to give Bessie lessons in manners, and to teach her +the court curtsey. She chuckled over her reluctance to obey commands to +tea at the rectory, and flattered her with a prediction that she would +enjoy the grand day of the wedding at Fairfield. "I know who the +bridesmaids are, and you will be the prettiest of the bunch," she +assured her. "Don't distress yourself: a bridesmaid has nothing to do +but to look pretty and stand to be stared at. It will be better fun at +the children's feast than at the breakfast--a wedding breakfast is +always slow--but you will see a host of fine people, which is amusing, +and since Lady Latimer wishes it, what need you care? You are one of +them, and your grandfather will be with you." + +Before the day came Bessie had been wrought up to fancy that she should +almost enjoy her little dignity. Its garb became her well. The Carnegie +boys admired her excessively when she was dressed and set off to +Fairfield, all alone in her glory, in a carriage with a pair of gray +horses and a scarlet postilion; and when she walked into church, one of +a beautiful bevy of half a dozen girls in a foam of white muslin and +blue ribbons, Mrs. Carnegie was not quick enough to restrain Jack from +pointing a stumpy little finger at her and crying out, "There's our +Bessie!" Bessie with a blush and a smile the more rallied round the +bride, and then looked across the church at her mother with a merry, +happy face that was quite lovely. + +Mr. Fairfax, who had joined the company at the church door, at this +moment directed towards her the notice of a gentleman who was standing +beside him. "That is Elizabeth--my little granddaughter," said he. The +gentleman thus addressed said, "Oh, indeed!" and observed her with an +air of interest. + +Then the solemnity began. There was a bishop to marry the happy couple +(Bessie supposed they were happy, though she saw the blossoms quiver on +the bride's head, and the bridegroom's hand shaking when he put the ring +on her finger), and it was soon done--very soon, considering that it was +to last for life. They drove back to Fairfield with a clamor of +bells--Beechhurst had a fine old peal--and a shrill cheering of children +along the roadside. Lady Latimer looked proud and delighted, and +everybody said she had made an excellent match for her charming niece. + +Bessie Fairfax was in the same carriage returning as the gentleman whose +attention had been called to her by her grandfather in the church. He +paid her the compliment of an attempt at conversation. He also sat by +her at the breakfast, and was kind and patronizing: her grandfather +informed her that he was a neighbor of his in Woldshire, Mr. Cecil +Burleigh. Bessie blushed, and made a slight acknowledgment with her +head, but had nothing to say. He was a very fine gentleman indeed, this +Mr. Cecil Burleigh--tall and straight, with a dark, handsome face and an +expression of ability and resolution. His age was seven-and-twenty, and +he had the appearance of an accomplished citizen of the world. Not to +make a mystery of him, _he_ was the poor young gentleman of great +talents and great expectations of whom the heads of families had spoken +as a suitable person to marry Elizabeth Fairfax and to give the old +house of Abbotsmead a new lease of life. He was a good-natured person, +but he found Bessie rather heavy in hand; she was too young, she had no +small talk, she was shy of such a fine gentleman. They were better +amused, both of them, in the rose-garden afterward--Bessie with Dora and +Dandy, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh with Miss Julia Gardiner, the most +beautiful young lady, Bessie thought, that she had ever seen. She had a +first impression that they were lovers. + +Mr. Fairfax had been entirely satisfied by his granddaughter's behavior +in her novel circumstances. Bessie was pretty and she was pleased. +Nothing was expected of her either to do or to say. She had a frank, +bright manner that was very taking, and a pleasant voice when she +allowed it to be heard. Lady Latimer found time to smile at her once or +twice, and to give her a kind, encouraging word, and when the guests +began to disperse she was told that she must stay for a little dance +there was to be in the evening amongst the young people in the house. +She stayed, and danced every dance with as joyous a vivacity as if it +had been Christmas in the long parlor at Brook and Harry Musgrave her +partner; and she confessed voluntarily to her mother and Mr. Phipps +afterward that she had been happy the whole day. + +"You see, dear Bessie, that I was right to insist upon your going," said +her mother. + +"And the kettles never once bumped the earthen pot--eh?" asked Mr. +Phipps mocking. + +"You forget," said Bessie, "I'm a little kettle myself now;" and she +laughed with the gayest assurance. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_BESSIE'S FRIENDS AT BROOK._ + + +That respite till September was indeed worth much to Bessie. Her mind +was gently broken in to changes. Mr. Fairfax vanished from the scene, +and Lady Latimer appeared on it more frequently. My lady even took upon +her (out of the interest she felt in her old friend) to find a school +for Bessie, and found one at Caen which everybody seemed to agree would +do. The daughters of the Liberal member for Hampton were receiving their +education there, and Mrs. Wiley knew the school. + +It was a beautiful season in the Forest--never more beautiful--and +Bessie rode with her father whenever he could go with her. Then young +Musgrave came back from Wells. Perhaps it is unnecessary to repeat that +Bessie was very fond of young Musgrave. It was quoted of her, when she +was a fat little trot of seven years old and he a big boy of twelve, +that she had cried herself to sleep because he had refused her a kiss, +being absorbed in some chemical experiment that smelt abominably when +her mother called her to bed. The denial was singularly unkind, and even +ungrateful that evening, because Bessie had not screamed when he +electrified her round, wee nose. She was still so tender at heart for +him that she would probably have cried now if he had roughed her. But +they were friends, the best of friends--as good as brother and sister. +Harry talked of himself incessantly; but what hero to her so +interesting? Not even his mother was so indulgent to his harmless +vanities as Bessie, or thought him so surely predestined to be one of +the great men of his day. + +It was early yet to say that Harry Musgrave was born under a lucky star, +but his friends did say it. He was of a most popular character, not too +wise or good to dispense with indulgence, or too modest to claim it. At +twelve he was a clumsy lad, bold, audacious, pleasant-humored, with a +high, curly, brown head, fine bright eyes, and no features to mention. +At twenty he had grown up into a tall, manly fellow, who meant to have +his share in the world if courage could capture it. Plenty of staying +power, his schoolmasters said he had, and it was the consciousness of +force in reserve that gave him much of his charm. Jealousy, envy, +emulation could find no place in him; he had been premature in nothing, +and still took his work at sober pace. He had a wonderful gift of +concentrativeness, and a memory to match. He loved learning for its own +sake far more than for the honor of excelling, and treated the favors of +fortune with such cool indifference that the seers said they were sure +some day to fall upon him in a shower. He had his pure enthusiasms and +lofty ambitions, as what young man of large heart and powerful intellect +has not? And he was now in the poetic era of life. + +Bessie Fairfax had speculated much and seriously beforehand how Harry +Musgrave would receive the news that she was going to be a lady. He +received it with most sovereign equanimity. + +"You always were a lady, and a very nice little lady, Bessie. I don't +think they can mend you," said he. + +The communication and flattering response were made at Brook, in the +sitting-room of the farm--a spacious, half-wainscoted room, with dark +polished floor, and a shabby old Persian carpet in the centre of it. A +very picture-like interior it was, with the afternoon sun pouring +through its vine-shaded open lattice, though time and weather-stains +were on the ceiling and pale-colored walls, and its scant furniture was +cumbrous, worn, and unbeautiful. The farm-house had been the manor once, +and was fast falling to pieces. Mr. Musgrave's landlord was an +impoverished man, but he could not sell a rood of his land, because his +heir was a cousin with whom he was at feud. It was a daily trial to Mrs. +Musgrave's orderly disposition that she had not a neat home about her, +but its large negligence suited her husband and son. This bare +sitting-room was Harry's own, and with the wild greenery outside was +warm, sweet, and fresh in hot summer weather, though a few damp days +filled it with odors of damp and decay. It was a cell in winter, but in +July a bower. + +And none the less a bower for those two young people in it this +afternoon. Mr. Carnegie had dropped Bessie at Brook in the morning, and +young Musgrave was to escort her home in the cool of the evening. His +mother and she had spent an hour together since the midday dinner, and +now the son of the house had called for her. They sat one on each side +of the long oak board which served young Musgrave for a study-table and +stood endwise towards the middle lattice. Harry had a new poem before +him, which he was tired of reading. The light and shadow played on both +their faces. There was a likeness for those who could see it--the same +frank courage in their countenances, the same turn for reverie in their +eyes. Harry felt lazy. The heat, the drowsy hum of bees in the +vine-blossoms, and the poetry-book combined, had made him languid. Then +he had bethought him of his comrade. Bessie came gladly, and poured out +in full recital the events that had happened to her of late. To these +she added the projects and anticipations of the future. + +"Dear little Bessie! she fancies she is on the eve of adventures. +Terribly monotonous adventures a girl's must be!" said the conceit of +masculine twenty. + +"I wish I had been a boy--it must be much better fun," was the whimsical +rejoinder of feminine fifteen. + +"And you should have been my chum," said young Musgrave. + +"That is just what I should have liked. Caen is nearer to Beechhurst +than it is to Woldshire, so I shall come home for my holidays. Perhaps I +shall never see you again, Harry, when I am transported to Woldshire." +This with a pathetic sigh. + +"Never is a long day. I shall find you out; and if I don't, you'll hear +of me. I mean to be heard of, Bessie." + +"Oh yes, Harry, I am sure you will. Shall you write a book? Will it be a +play? They always seem to walk to London with a play in their pockets, a +tragedy that the theatres won't look at; and then their troubles begin." + +Young Musgrave smiled superior at Bessie's sentiment and Bessie's +syntax. "There is the railway, and Oxford is on the road. I intend +always to travel first-class," said he. + +Bessie understood him to speak literally. "First-class! Oh, but that is +too grand! In the _Lives_ they never have much money. Some are awfully +poor--_starving_: Savage was, and Chatterton and Otway." + +"Shabby, disreputable vagabonds!" answered young Musgrave lightly. + +"And Samuel Johnson and ever so many more," continued Bessie, pleading +his sympathy. + +"There is no honor in misery; it is picturesque to read about, but it is +a sorry state in reality to be very poor. Some poets have been scamps. I +shall not start as the prodigal son, Bessie, for I love not swinish +company nor diet of husks." + +"The prodigal came home to his father, Harry." + +"So he did, but I have my doubts whether he stayed." + +There was a silence. Bessie had always believed in the prodigal as a +good son after his repentance. Any liberty of speculation as concerning +Scripture gave her pause; it was a new thing at Beechhurst and at Brook. + +Young Musgrave furled over the pages of his book. A sheet of paper, +written, interlined, blotted with erasures, flew out. He laid a quick +hand upon it; not so quick, however, but that Bessie had caught sight of +verses--verses of his own, too. She entreated him to read them. He +excused himself. "Do, Harry; please do," she urged, but he was +inexorable. He had read her many a fine composition before--many a poem +crowded with noble words and lofty sentiments; but for once he was +reserved, firm, secret. He told Bessie that she would not admire this +last effort of his muse: it was a parody, an imitation of the Greek. + +"Girls have no relish for humor: they don't understand it. It is sheer +profanity to them," said he. Let him show her his prize-books instead. + +Bessie was too humble towards Harry to be huffed. She admired the +prize-books, then changed the subject, and spoke of Lady Latimer, +inquiring if he had availed himself of her invitation yet to call at +Fairfield. + +"No," said he, "I have not called at Fairfield. What business can her +ladyship have with me? I don't understand her royal message. Little +Christie went to Fairfield with a portfolio of sketches in obedience to +a summons of that sort, and was bidden to sit down to dinner in the +servants' hall while the portfolio was carried up stairs. Her ladyship +bought a sketch, but the money was no salve for Christie's +mortification. I have nothing to sell. I took warning by my friend, and +did not go." + +Again Bessie was dumb. She blushed, and did not know what to say. She +would not have liked to hear that Harry had been set down to dinner in +the servants' hall at Fairfield, though she had not herself been hurt by +a present of a cheese-cake in the kitchen. She was perfectly aware that +the farmers and upper servants in the great houses did associate as +equals. Evidently the conduct of life required much discretion. + +Less than a year ago young Christie had helped at the painting and +graining of Lady Latimer's house. Somebody, a connoisseur in art, +wandering last autumn in the Forest, had found him making a drawing of +yew trees, had sought him in his home at the wheelwright's, had told him +he was a genius and would do wonders. On the instant young Christie +expected the greatest of all wonders to be done; he expected his friends +and neighbors to believe in him on the strength of the stranger's +prediction. Naturally, they preferred to reserve their judgment. He and +young Musgrave had learnt their letters under the same ferule, though +their paths had diverged since. Some faint reminiscence of companionship +survived in young Christie's memory, and in the absence of a generous +sympathy at home he went to seek it at Brook. A simple, strong +attachment was the result. Young Christie was gentle, vain, sensitive, +easily raised and easily depressed, a slim little fellow--a contrast to +Harry Musgrave in every way. "My friend" each called the other, and +their friendship was a pure joy and satisfaction to them both. Christie +carried everything to Brook--hopes, feelings, fears as well as +work--even his mortification at Fairfield, against a repetition of which +young Musgrave offered counsel, wisdom of the ancients. + +"It is art you are in pursuit of, not pomps and vanities? Then keep +clear of Fairfield. The first thing for success in imaginative work is a +soul unruffled: what manner of work could you do to-day? You will never +paint a stroke the better for anything Lady Latimer can do for you; but +lay yourself open to the chafe and fret of her patronage now, and you +are done for. Ten, twenty years hence, she will be harmless, because you +will have the confidence of a name." + +"And she will remember that she bought my first sketch; she will say she +made me," said young Christie. + +"You will not care then: everybody knows that a man makes himself. +Phipps calls her vain-glorious; Carnegie calls her the very core of +goodness. In either case you don't need her. There is only one patron +for men of art and literature in these days, and that is the General +Public. The times are gone by for waiting in Chesterfield's ante-room +and hiding behind Cave's screen." + +Harry recited all this for Bessie's instruction. Bessie was convinced +that he had spoken judiciously: the safest way to avoid a fall is not to +be in too much haste to climb. It is more consistent with self-respect +for genius in low estate to defend its independence against the assaults +of rich patrons, seeking appendages to their glory, than to accept their +benefits, and complain that they are given with insolence. It is an +evident fact that the possessors of rank and money value themselves as +of more consequence than those whom God has endowed with other gifts and +not with these. Platitudes reveal themselves to the young as novel and +striking truths. Bessie ruminated these in profound silence. Harry +offered her a penny for her thoughts. + +"I was thinking," said she, with a sudden revelation of the practical, +"that young Christie will suffer a great deal in his way through the +world if he stumble at such common kindness as Lady Latimer's." And then +she told the story of the cheese-cake. "I beheld my lady then as a +remote and exalted sphere, where never foot of mine would come. I have +entered it since by reason of belonging to an old house of gentry, and I +find that I can breathe there. So may he some day, when he has earned a +title to it, but he would be very uncomfortable there now." + +"And so may I some day, when I have earned a title to it, but I should +be very uncomfortable there now. Meanwhile we have souls above +cheese-cakes, and don't choose to bear my lady's patronage." + +Bessie felt that she was being laughed at. She grew angry, and poured +out her sentiments hot: "There is a difference between you and young +Christie; you know quite well that there is, Harry. No, I sha'n't +explain what it consists in. Lady Latimer meant to encourage him: to see +that she thinks well enough of his sketches to buy one may influence +other people to buy them. He can't live on air; and if he is to be a +painter he must study. You are not going to rise in the world without +working? If you went to her house, she would make you acquainted with +people it might be good for you to know: it is just whether you like +that sort of thing or not. I don't; I am happier at home. But men don't +want to keep at home." + +"_Already_, Bessie!" cried Harry in a rallying, reproachful tone. + +"Already _what_, Harry? I am not giving myself airs, if that is what you +mean," said she blushing. + +Harry shook his head, but only half in earnest: "You are, Bessie. You +are pretending to have opinions on things that you had never thought of +a month ago. Give you a year amongst your grandees, and you will hold +yourself above us all." + +Tears filled Bessie's eyes. She was very much hurt; she did not believe +that Harry could have misunderstood her so. "I shall never hold myself +above anybody that I was fond of when I was little; they are more likely +to forget me when I am out of sight. They have others to love." Bessie +spoke in haste and excitement. She meant neither to defend herself nor +to complain, but her voice imported a little pathos and tragedy into the +scene. Young Musgrave instantly repented and offered atonement. +"Besides," Bessie rather inconsequently ran on, "I am very fond of Lady +Latimer; she has nobody of her own, so she tries to make a family in the +world at large." + +"All right, Bessie--then she shall adopt you. Only don't be cross, +little goosey. Let us go into the garden." Young Musgrave made such a +burlesque of his remorse that Bessie, wounded but skin-deep, was fain to +laugh too and be friends again. And thereupon they went forth together +into the bosky old garden. + +What a pleasant wilderness that old garden was, even in its neglected +beauty! Whoever planted it loved open spaces, turf, and trees of foreign +race; for there were some rare cedars, full-grown, straight, and +stately, with feathered branches sweeping the grass, and strange shrubs +that were masses of blossom and fountains of sweet odors. The +flower-borders had run to waste; only a few impoverished roses tossed +their blushing fragrance into the air, and a few low-growing, +old-fashioned things made shift to live amongst the weeds. But the +prettiest bit of all was the verdant natural slope, below which ran the +brook that gave the village and the manor their names. The Forest is not +a land of merry running waters, but little tranquil streams meander +hither and thither, making cool its shades. Three superb beeches laved +their silken leaves in the shallow flood, and amongst their roots were +rustic seats all sheltered from sun and wind. Here had Harry Musgrave +and Bessie Fairfax sat many a summer afternoon, their heads over one +poetry-book, reading, whispering, drawing--lovers in a way, though they +never talked of love. + +"Shall we two ever walk together in this garden again, Harry?" said +Bessie, breaking a sentimental silence with a sigh as she gazed at the +sun-dimmed horizon. + +"Many a time, I hope. I'll tell you my ambition." Young Musgrave spoke +with vivacity; his eyes sparkled. "Listen, Bessie, and don't be +astonished. I mean some day to buy Brook, and come to live here. That is +my ambition." + +Bessie was overawed. To buy Brook was a project too vast for her +imagination. The traditions of its ancient glories still hung about it, +and the proprietor, even in his poverty, was a power in the country. +Harry proceeded with the confession of his day-dreams: "I shall pull +down the house--if it does not fall down of itself before--and build it +up again on the original plan, for I admire not all things new. With the +garden replanted and the fine old trees left, it will be a paradise--as +much of a paradise as any modern Adam can desire. And Bessie shall be my +Eve." + +"You will see so many Eves between now and then, Harry, that you will +have forgotten me," cried Bessie. + +Harry rejoined: "You are quite as likely to be carried away by a bluff +Woldshire squire as I am to fall captive to other Eves." + +"You know, Harry, I shall always be fondest of you. We have been like +real cousins. But won't you be growing rather old before you are rich +enough to buy Brook?" + +"If I am, you will be growing rather old too, Bessie. What do you call +old--thirty?" + +"Yes. Do you mean to put off life till you are thirty?" + +"No. I mean to work and play every day as it comes. But one must have +some great events to look forward to. My visions are of being master of +Brook and of marrying Bessie. One without the other would be only half a +good fortune." + +"Do you care so much for me as that, Harry? I was afraid you cared for +little Christie more than for me now." + +"Don't be jealous of little Christie, Bessie. Surely I can like you +both. There are things a girl does not understand. You belong to me as +my father and mother do. I have told you everything. I have not told +anybody but you what I intend about Brook--not even my mother. I want it +to be our secret." + +"So it shall, Harry. You'll see how I can keep it," cried Bessie +delighted. + +"I trust you, because I know if I make a breakdown you will not change. +When I missed the English verse-prize last year (you remember, Bessie?) +I had made so sure of it that I could hardly show my face at home. +Mother was disappointed, but you just snuggled up to me and said, 'Never +mind, Harry, I love you;' and you did not care whether I had a prize or +none. And that was comfort. I made up my mind at that minute what I +should do." + +"Dear old Harry! I am sure your verses were the best, far away," was +Bessie's response; and then she begged to hear more of what her comrade +meant to do. + +Harry did not want much entreating. His schemes could hardly be called +castles in the air, so much of the solid and reasonable was there in the +design of them. He had no expectation of success by wishing, and no +trust in strokes of luck. Life is a race, and a harder race than ever. +Nobody achieves great things without great labors and often great +sacrifices. "The labor I shall not mind; the sacrifices I shall make +pay." Harry was getting out of Bessie's depth now; a little more of +poetry and romance in his views would have brought them nearer to the +level of her comprehension. Then he talked to her of his school, of the +old doctor, that great man, of his schoolfellows, of his rivals whom he +had distanced--not a depreciatory word of any of them. "I don't believe +in luck for myself," he said. "But there is a sort of better and worse +fortune amongst men, independent of merit. It was the narrowest shave +between me and Fordyce. I would not have given sixpence for my chance of +the scholarship against his, yet I won it. He is a good fellow, Fordyce: +he came up and shook hands as if he had won. That was just what I +wanted: I felt so happy! Now I shall go to Oxford; in a year or two I +shall have pupils, and who knows but I may gain a fellowship? I shall +take you to Oxford, Bessie, when the time comes." + +Bessie was as proud and as pleased in this indefinite prospect as if she +were bidden to pack up and start to-morrow. Harry went on to tell her +what Mr. Moxon had told him, how Oxford is one of the most beautiful of +cities, and one of the most famous and ancient seats of learning in the +world (which she knew from her geography-book), and there, under the +beeches, with the slow ripple at their feet, they sat happy as king and +queen in a fairy-tale, until the shadow of Mrs. Musgrave came gliding +over the grass, and her clear caressing voice broke on their ears: +"Children, children, are you never coming to tea? We have called you +from the window twice. And young Christie is here." + + * * * * * + +Young Christie came forward with a bow and a blush to shake hands. He +had dressed himself for Sunday to come to Brook. He had an ingenuous +face, but plain in feature. The perceptive faculties were heavily +developed, and his eyes were fine; and his mouth and chin suggested a +firmness of character. + +Mr. Musgrave, who was absent at dinner, was now come home tired from +Hampton. He leant back in his chair and held out a brown hand to Bessie, +who took it, and a kiss with it, as part of the regular ceremony of +greeting. She slipped into the chair set for her beside him, and was +quite at home, for Bessie was a favorite in the same degree at Brook as +Harry was at Beechhurst. Young Christie sat next to his friend and +opposite to Bessie. They had many things to say to each other, and +Bessie compared them in her own mind silently. Harry was serene and +quiet; Christie's color came and went with the animation of his talk. +Harry's hands had the sunburnt hue of going ungloved, but they were the +hands of a young man devoted to scholarly pursuits; Christie's were +stained with his trade, which he practised of necessity still, wooing +art only in his bye-hours. Harry's speech was decisive and simple; +Christie's was hesitating and a little fine, a little over-careful. He +was self-conscious, and as he talked he watched who listened, his +restless eyes glancing often towards Bessie. But this had a twofold +meaning, for while he talked of other things his faculty of observation +was at work; it was always at work as an undercurrent. + +Loveliness of color had a perpetual fascination for him. He was +considering the tints in Bessie's hair and in the delicate, downy +rose-oval of her cheeks, and the effect upon them of the sunshine +flickering through the vine leaves. When the after-glow was red in the +west, the dark green cloth of the window-curtain, faded to purple and +orange, made a rich background for her fair head, and he beheld in his +fancy a picture that some day he would reproduce. On the tea-table he +had laid down a twig of maple, the leaves of which were curiously +crenated by some insect, and with it a clump of moss, and a stone +speckled in delicious scarlet and tawny patches of lichen-growth--bits +of Nature and beauty in which he saw more than others see, and had +picked up in his walk by Great-Ash Ford through the Forest to Brook. + +"I live in hope of some lucky accident to give me the leisure and +opportunity for study; till then I must stick to my mechanical trade of +painting and graining," he was saying while his eyes roved about +Bessie's face, and his fingers toyed first with the twig of maple and +then with the pearled moss. "My father thinks scorn of art for a living, +and predicts me repentance and starvation. I tell him we shall see; one +must not expect to be a prophet in one's own country. But I am half +promised a commission at the Hampton Theatre--a new drop-scene. My +sketch is approved--it is a Forest view. The decision must come soon." + +Everybody present wished the young fellow success. "Though whether you +have success or not you will have a share of happiness, because you are +a dear lover of Nature, and Nature never lets her lovers go unrewarded," +said Mrs. Musgrave kindly. + +"Ah! but I shall not be satisfied with her obscure favors," cried little +Christie airily. + +"You must have applause: I don't think I care for applause," said young +Musgrave; and he cut Bessie a slice of cake. + +Bessie proceeded to munch it with much gravity and enjoyment--Harry's +mother made excellent cakes--and the father of the house, smiling at her +serious absorption, patted her on the shoulder and said, "And what does +Bessie Fairfax care for?" + +"Only to be loved," says Bessie without a thought. + +"And that is what you will be, for love's a gift," rejoined Mr. +Musgrave. "These skip-jacks who talk of setting the world on fire will +be lucky if they make only blaze enough to warm themselves." + +"Ay, indeed--and getting rich. Talk's cheap, but it takes a deal of +money to buy land," said his wife, who had a shrewd inkling of her son's +ambition, though he had not confessed it to her. "Young folks little +think of the chances and changes of this mortal life, or it's a blessing +they'd seek before anything else." + +Bessie's face clouded at a word of changes. "Don't fret, Bessie, we'll +none of us forget you," said the kind father. But this was too much for +her tender heart. She pushed back her chair and ran out of the room. For +the last hour the tears had been very near her eyes, and now they +overflowed. Mrs. Musgrave followed to comfort her. + +"To go all amongst strangers!" sobbed Bessie; and her philosophy quite +failed her when that prospect recurred in its dreadful blankness. +Happily, the time of night did not allow of long lamentation. Presently +Harry called at the stair's foot that it was seven o'clock. And she +kissed his mother and bade Brook good-bye. + +The walk home was through the Forest, between twilight and moonlight. +The young men talked and Bessie was silent. She had no favor towards +young Christie previously, but she liked his talk to-night and his +devotion to Harry Musgrave, and she enrolled him henceforward amongst +those friends and acquaintances of her happy childhood at Beechhurst +concerning whom inquiries were to be made in writing home when she was +far away. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_FAREWELL TO THE FOREST._ + + +A few days after his meeting with Bessie Fairfax at Brook, young +Christie left at the doctor's door a neat, thin parcel addressed to her +with his respects. Lady Latimer and Mrs. Wiley, who were still +interesting themselves in her affairs, were with Mrs. Carnegie at the +time, giving her some instructions in Bessie's behalf. Mrs. Carnegie was +rather bothered than helped by their counsels, but she did not +discourage them, because of the advantage to Bessie of having their +countenance and example. Bessie, sitting apart at the farther side of +the round table, untied the string and unfolded the silver paper. Then +there was a blush, a smile, a cry of pleasure. At what? At a picture of +herself that little Christie had painted, and begged to make an offering +of. It was handed round for the inspection of the company. + +"A slight thing," said Mrs. Wiley with a negligent glance. "Young +Christie fishes with sprats to catch whales, as Askew told him +yesterday. He brought his portfolio and a drawing of the church to show, +but we did not buy anything. We are afraid that he will turn out a sad, +idle fellow, going dawdling about instead of keeping to his trade. His +father is much grieved." + +"This is sketchy, but full of spirit," said Lady Latimer, holding the +drawing at arm's length to admire. + +"It is life itself! We must hear what your father says to it, Bessie," +Mrs. Carnegie added in a pleased voice. + +"If her father does not buy it, I will. It is a charming little +picture," said my lady. + +Bessie was gratified, but she hoped her father would not let anybody +else possess it. + +"A matter of a guinea, and it will be well paid for," said the rector's +wife. + +No one made any rejoinder, but Mr. Carnegie gave the aspiring artist +five guineas (he would not have it as a gift, which little Christie +meant), and plenty of verbal encouragement besides. Lady Latimer further +invited him to paint her little friends, Dora and Dandy. He accepted the +commission, and fulfilled it with effort and painstaking, but not with +such signal success as his portrait of Bessie. That was an inspiration. +The doctor hung up the picture in the dining-room for company every day +in her absence, and promised that it should keep her place for her in +all their hearts and memories until she came home again. + +There are not many more events to chronicle until the great event of +Bessie's farewell to Beechhurst. She gave a tea-party to her friends in +the Forest, a picnic tea-party at Great-Ash Ford; and on a fine morning, +when the air blew fresh from the sea, she and her handsome new baggage +were packed, with young Musgrave, into the back seat of the doctor's +chaise, the doctor sitting in front with his man to drive. Their +destination was Hampton, to take the boat for Havre. The man was to +return home with the chaise in the evening. The doctor was going on to +Caen, to deliver his dear little girl safely at school, and Harry was +going with them for a holiday. All the Carnegie children and their +mother, the servants and the house-dog, were out in the road to bid +Bessie a last good-bye; the rector and his wife were watching over the +hedge; and Miss Buff panted up the hill at the last moment, with fat +tears running down her cheeks. She had barely time for a word, Mr. +Carnegie always cutting short leave-takings. Bessie's nose was pink with +tears and her eyes glittered, but she was in good heart. She looked +behind her as long as she could see her mother, and Jack and Willie +coursing after the chaise with damp pocket-handkerchiefs a-flutter; and +then she turned her face the way she was going, and said with a shudder, +"It is a beautiful, sunny morning, but for all that it is cold." + +"Have my coat-sleeve, Bessie," suggested Harry, and they both laughed, +then became quiet, then merry. + +About two miles out of Hampton the travellers overtook little Christie +making the road fly behind him as he marched apace, a knapsack at his +back and his chin in the air. + +"Whither away so fast, young man?" shouted the doctor, hailing him. + +"To Hampton Theatre," shouted Christie back again, and he flourished his +hat round his head. Harry Musgrave repeated the triumphant gesture with +a loud hurrah. The artist that was to be had got that commission for the +new drop-scene at the theatre. His summons had come by this morning's +post. + +The toil-worn, dusty little figure was long in sight, for now the road +ran in a direct line. Bessie wished they could have given him a lift on +his journey. Harry Musgrave continued to look behind, but he said +nothing. It is some men's fortune to ride cock-horse, it is some other +men's to trudge afoot; but neither is the lot of the first to be envied, +nor the lot of the last to be deplored. Such would probably have been +his philosophy if he had spoken. Bessie, regarding externals only, and +judging of things as they seemed, felt pained by the outward signs of +inequality. + +In point of fact, little Christie was the happiest of the three at that +moment. According to his own belief, he was just about to lay hold of +the key that would open for him the outer door of the Temple of Fame. +After that blessed drop-scene that he was on his way to execute at +Hampton, never more would he return to his mechanical painting and +graining. It was an epoch that they all dated from, this shining day of +September, when Bessie Fairfax bade farewell to the Forest, and little +Christie set out on his career of honor with a knapsack on his back and +seven guineas in his pocket. As for Harry Musgrave, his leading-strings +were broken before, and he was in some sort a citizen of the world +already. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_BESSIE GOES INTO EXILE._ + + +The rapid action and variety of the next few days were ever after like a +dream to Bessie Fairfax. A tiring day in Hampton town, a hurried walk to +the docks in the sunset, the gorgeous autumnal sunset that flushed the +water like fire; a splendid hour in the river, ships coming up full +sail, and twilight down to the sea; a long, deep sleep. Then sunrise on +rolling green waves, low cliffs, headlands of France; a vast turmoil, +hubbub, and confusion of tongues; a brief excursion into Havre, by gay +shops to gayer gardens, and breakfast in the gayest of glass-houses. +Then embarkation on board the boat for Caen; a gentle sea-rocking; +soldiers, men in blouses, women in various patterns of caps; the mouth +of the Orne; fringes on the coast of fashionable resort for sea-bathers. +Miles up the stream, dreary, dreary; poplars leaning aslant from the +wind, low mud-banks, beds of osiers, reeds, rushes, willows; poplars +standing erect as a regiment in line, as many regiments, a gray monotony +of poplars; the tide flowing higher, laving the reeds, the sallows, all +pallid with mist and soft driving rain. A gleam of sun on a lawn, on +roses, on a conical red roof; orchards, houses here and there, with +shutters closed, and the afternoon sun hot upon them; acres of +market-garden, artichokes, flat fields, a bridge, rushy ditches, tall +array of poplars repeated and continued endlessly. + +"I think," said Bessie, "I shall hate a poplar as long as I live!" + +Mr. Carnegie agreed that the scenery was not enchanting. Beautiful +France is not to compare with the beautiful Forest. Harry Musgrave was +in no haste with his opinion; he was looking out for Caen, that ancient +and famous town of the Norman duke who conquered England. He had been +reading up the guide-book and musing over history, while Bessie had been +letting the poplars weigh her mind down to the brink of despondency. + +A repetition of the noisy landing at Havre, despatch of baggage to +Madame Fournier's, everybody's heart failing for fear of that august, +unknown lady. A sudden resolution on the doctor's part to delay the +dread moment of consigning Bessie to the school-mistress until evening, +and a descent on Thunby's hotel. A walk down the Rue St. Jean to the +Place St. Pierre, and by the way a glimpse, through an open door in a +venerable gateway, of a gravelled court-yard planted with sycamores and +surrounded by lofty walls, draped to the summit with vines and ivy; in +the distance an arcade with vistas of garden beyond lying drowsy in the +sunshine, the angle of a large mansion, and fluttering lilac wreaths of +wisteria over the portal. + +"If this is Madame Fournier's school, it is a hushed little world," said +the doctor. + +Bessie beheld it with awe. There was a solemn picturesqueness in the +prospect that daunted her imagination. + +Harry Musgrave referred to his guide-book: "Ah, I thought so--this is +the place. Bessie, Charlotte Corday lived here." + +Above the rickety gateway were two rickety windows. At those windows +Charlotte might have sat over her copy of Plutarch's "Lives," a +ruminating republican in white muslin, before the Revolution, or have +gazed at the sombre church of St. Jean across the street, in the happier +days before she despised going to old-fashioned worship. Bessie looked +up at them more awed than ever. "I hope her ghost does not haunt the +house. Come away, Harry," she whispered. + +Harry laughed at her superstition. They went forward under the irregular +peaked houses, stunned at intervals by side-gusts of evil odor, till +they came to the place and church of St. Pierre. The market-women in +white-winged caps, who had been sitting at the receipt of custom since +morning surrounded by heaps of glowing fruit and flowers, were now +vociferously gathering up their fragments, their waifs and strays and +remnants, to go home. The men were harnessing their horses, filling +their carts. It was all a clamorous, sunny, odd sort of picture amidst +the quaint and ancient buildings. Then they went into the church, into +the gloom and silence out of the stir. The doctor made the young ones a +sign to hush. There were women on their knees, and on the steps of the +altar a priest of dignified aspect, and a file of acolytes, awfully +ugly, the very refuse of the species--all but one, who was a saint for +beauty of countenance and devoutness of mien. Harry glanced at him and +his companions as if they were beings of a strange and mysterious race; +and the numerous votive offerings to "Our Lady of La Salette" and +elsewhere he eyed askance with the expression of a very sound Protestant +indeed. The lovely luxuriant architecture, the foliated carvings, were +dim in the evening light. A young sculptor, who was engaged in the work +of restoring some of these rich carvings, came down from his perch while +the strangers stood to admire them. + +That night by nine o'clock Bessie Fairfax was in the _dortoir_ at Madame +Fournier's--a chamber of six windows and twenty beds, narrow, hard, +white, and, except her own and one other, empty. By whose advice it was +that she was sent to school a week in advance of the opening she never +knew. But there she was in the wilderness of a house, with only a +dejected English teacher suffering from chronic face-ache, and another +scholar, younger than herself, for company. The great madame was still +absent at Bayeux, spending the vacation with her uncle the canon. + +It was a moonlight night, and the jalousies looking upon the garden were +not closed. Bessie was neither timid nor grievous, but she was +desperately wide-awake. The formality of receiving her and showing her +to bed had been very briefly despatched. It seemed as if she had been +left at the door like a parcel, conveyed up stairs, and put away. +Beechhurst was a thousand miles off, and yesterday a hundred years ago! +The doctor and Harry Musgrave could hardly have walked back to Thunby's +hotel before she and her new comrade were in their little beds. Now, +indeed, was the Rubicon passed, and Bessie Fairfax committed to all the +vicissitudes of exile. She realized the beginning thereof when she +stretched her tired limbs on her unyielding mattress of straw, and +recalled her dear little warm nest under the eaves at home. + +Presently, from a remote couch spoke her one companion, "I am sitting up +on end. What are you doing?" + +"Nothing. Lying down and staring at the moon," replied Bessie, and +turned her eyes in the direction of the voice. + +The figure sitting up on end was distinctly visible. It was clasping +its knees, its long hair flowed down its back, and its face was steadily +addressed to the window at the foot of its bed. "Do you care to talk?" +asked the queer apparition. + +"I shall not fall asleep for _hours_ yet," said Bessie. + +"Then let us have a good talk." The unconscious quoter of Dr. Johnson +contributed her full share to the colloquy. She told her story, and why +she was at Madame Fournier's: "Father's ship comes from Yarmouth in +Norfolk. It is there we are at home, but he is nearly always at sea--to +and fro to Havre and Caen, to Dunkirk and Bordeaux. It is a fine sailing +ship, the Petrel. When the wind blows I think of father, though he has +weathered many storms. To-night it will be beautiful on the water. I +have often sailed with father." A prodigious sigh closed the paragraph, +and drew from Bessie a query that perhaps she wished she was sailing +with him now? She did, indeed! "He left me here because I was not +well--it is three weeks since; it was the day of the emperor's +_fete_--but I am no stronger yet. I have been left here before--once for +a whole half-year. I hope it won't be so long this time; I do so miss +father! My mother is dead, and he has married another wife. I believe +she wishes I were dead too." + +"Oh no," cried Bessie, much amazed. "I have a mother who is not really +my mother, but she is as good as if she were." + +"Then she is not like mine. Are women all alike? Hush! there is Miss +Foster at the door--_listening_.... She is gone now; she didn't peep +in.... Tell me, do you hear anything vulgar in my speech?" + +"No--it is plain enough." It was a question odd and unexpected, and +Bessie had to think before she answered it. + +Her questioner mistook her reflection for hesitation, and seemed +disappointed. "Ah, but you do," said she, "though you don't like to tell +me so. It is provincial, very provincial, Miss Foster admits.... Next +week, when the young ladies come back, I shall wish myself more than +ever with father." + +"What for? don't you like school?" Bessie was growing deeply interested +in these random revelations. + +"No. How should I? I don't belong to them. Everybody slights me but +madame. Miss Hiloe has set me down as quite _common_. It is so +dreadful!" + +Bessie's heart had begun to beat very hard. "Is it?" said she in a tone +of apprehension. "Do they profess to despise you?" + +"More than that--they _do_ despise me; they don't know how to scorn me +enough. But you are not _common_, so why should you be afraid? My father +is a master-mariner--John Fricker of Great Yarmouth. What is yours?" + +"Oh, mine was a clergyman, but he is long since dead, and my own mother +too. The father and mother who have taken care of me since live at +Beechhurst in the Forest, and _he_ is a doctor. It is my grandfather who +sends me here to school, and he is a country gentleman, a squire. But I +like my common friends best--_far_!" + +"If you have a squire for your grandfather you may speak as you +please--Miss Hiloe will not call you common. Oh, I am shrewd enough: I +know more than I tell. Miss Foster says I have the virtues of my class, +but I have no business at a school like this. She wonders what Madame +Fournier receives me for. Oh, I wish father may come over next month! +Nobody can tell how lonely I feel sometimes. Will you call me Janey?" +Janey's poor little face went down upon her knees, and there was the +sound of sobs. Bessie's tender heart yearned to comfort this misery, and +she would have gone over to administer a kiss, had she not been +peremptorily warned not to risk it: there was the gleam of a light below +the door. When that alarm was past, composure returned to the +master-mariner's little daughter, and Bessie ventured to ask if the +French girls were nice. + +The answer sounded pettish: "There are all sorts in a school like this. +Elise Finckel lives in the Place St. Pierre: they are clock and +watchmakers, the Finckels. Once I went there; then Elise and Miss Hiloe +made friends, and it was good-bye to me! but clanning is forbidden." + +Bessie required enlightening as to what "clanning" meant. The +explanation was diffuse, and branched off into so many anecdotes and +illustrations that in spite of the moonlight, her nerves, her interest, +and her forebodings, Bessie began to yield to the overpowering influence +of sleep. The little comrade, listened to no longer, ceased her prattle +and napped off too. + + * * * * * + +The next sound Bessie Fairfax heard was the irregular clangor of a bell, +and behold it was morning! Some one had been into the _dortoir_ and had +opened a window or two. The warm fragrant breath of sunshine and twitter +of birds entered. + +"So this is being at school in France? What a din!" said Bessie, +stopping her ears and looking for her comrade. + +That strange child was just opening a pair of sleepy eyes and exhorting +herself by name: "Now, Miss Janey Fricker, you will be wise to get up +without more thinking about it, or there will be a bad mark and an +imposition for you, my dear. What a blessing! five dull days yet before +the arrival of the tormentors!" She slipped out upon the floor, +exclaiming how tired she was and how all her bones ached, till Bessie's +heart ached too for pity of the delicate, sensitive morsel of humanity. + +They had soup for breakfast, greasy, flavorless stuff loaded with +vegetables, and bread sour with long keeping. This was terrible to +Bessie. She sipped and put down her spoon, then tried again. Miss +Foster, at the same table, partook of a rough decoction of coffee with +milk, and a little rancid butter on the sour bread toasted. + +After breakfast the two girls were told that they were permitted to go +into the garden. They spent the whole morning there, and there Mr. +Carnegie and Harry Musgrave found Bessie when they came to take their +final leave of her. It was good and brave of the little girl not to +distress them with complaints, for she was awfully hungry, and likely to +be so until her dainty appetite was broken in to French school-fare. Her +few tears did not signify. + +Harry Musgrave said the garden was not so pretty as it appeared from the +street, and the doctor made rueful allusions to convents and prisons, +and was not half satisfied to leave his dear little Bessie there. The +morning sun had gone off the grass. The walls were immensely lofty--the +tallest trees did not overtop them. There was a weedy, weak fountain, a +damp grotto, and two shrines with white images of the Blessed Mary +crowned with gilt stars. + +Miss Foster came into the garden the moment the visitors appeared, +holding one hand against the flannel that enveloped her face. She made +the usual polite speeches of hope, expectation, and promise concerning +the new-comer, and stayed about until the gentlemen went. Then an +inexpressible flatness fell upon Bessie, and she would probably have +wept in earnest, but for the sight of Janey Fricker standing aloof and +gazing at her wistfully for an invitation to draw near. Somebody to +succor was quite in Bessie's way; helpless, timid things felt safe under +covert of her wing. It gave her a vocation at once to have this weak, +ailing little girl seeking to her for protection, and she called her to +come. How gladly Janey came! + +"What were you thinking of just now when I lost my friends?" Bessie +asked her. + +"Oh, of lots of things: I can't tell you of what. Is that your brother?" + +"No, he is a cousin." + +"Are you very fond of him? I wonder what it feels like to have many +people to love? I have no one but father." + +"Harry Musgrave and I have known each other all our lives. And now you +and I are going to be friends." + +"If you don't find somebody you like better, as Elise Finckel did. There +is the bell; it means dinner in ten minutes." Bessie was looking sorry +at her new comrade's suspicion. Janey was quick to see it. "Oh, I have +vexed you about Elise?" cried she in a voice of pleading distress. "When +shall I learn to trust anybody again?" + +Bessie smiled superior. "Very soon, I hope," said she. "You must not +afflict yourself with fancies. I am not vexed; I am only sorry if you +won't trust me. Let us wait and see. I feel a kindness for most people, +and don't need to love one less because I love another more. I promise +to keep a warm place in my heart for you always, you little mite! I have +even taken to Miss Foster because I pity her. She looks so overworked, +and jaded, and poor." + +"It is easy to like Miss Foster when you know her. She keeps her mamma, +and her salary is only twenty-five pounds a year." + +The dinner, to which the girls adjourned at a second summons of the +bell, was as little appetizing as the breakfast had been. There was the +nauseous soup, a morsel of veal, a salad dressed with rank oil, a mess +of sweet curd, and a dish of stewed prunes. After the fiction of dining, +Miss Foster took the two pupils for a walk by the river, where groups of +soldiers under shade of the trees were practising the fife and the drum. +Caen seemed to be full of soldiers, marching and drilling for ever. +Louise, the handsome portress at the school, frankly avowed that she did +not know what the young women of her generation would do for husbands; +the conscription carried away all the finest young men. Janey loved to +watch the soldiers; she loved all manner of shows, and also to tell of +them. She asked Bessie if she would like to hear about the emperor's +_fete_ last month; and when Bessie acquiesced, she began in a discursive +narrative style by which a story can be stretched to almost any length: + +"There was a military mass at St. Etienne's in the morning. I had only +just left father, but Mademoiselle Adelaide took me with her, and a +priest sent us up into the triforium--you understand what the triforium +is? a gallery in the apse looking down on the choir. The triforium at +St. Etienne's is wide enough to drive a coach and four round; at the +Augustines, where we went once to see three sisters take the white veil, +it is quite narrow, and without anything to prevent you falling over--a +dizzy place. But I am forgetting the _fete_.... It was _so_ beautiful +when the doors were thrown open, and the soldiers and flags came +tramping in with the sunshine, and filled the nave! The generals sat +with the mayor and the _prefet_ in the chancel, ever so grand in their +ribbons and robes and orders. The service was all music and not long: +soldiers don't like long prayers. You will see them go to mass on Sunday +at St. Jean's, opposite the school.... Then at night there was a +procession--such a pandemonium! such a rabble-rout, with music and +shouting, soldiers marching at the double, carrying blazing torches, and +a cloud of paper lanterns that caught fire and flared out. We could hear +the discordant riot ever so far off, and when the mob came up our street +again, almost in the dark, I covered my ears. Of all horrible sounds, a +mob of excited Frenchmen can make the worst. The wind in a storm at sea +is nothing to it." + +There was a man gathering peaches from the sunny wall of a garden-house +by the river. Janey finished her tale, and remarked that here fruit +could be bought. Bessie, rich in the possession of a pocketful of money, +was most truly glad to hear it, and a great feast of fruit ensued, with +accompaniments of _galette_ and new milk. Then the walk was continued in +a circuit which brought them back to the school through the town. The +return was followed by a collation of thick bread and butter and thin +tea; then by a little reading aloud in Miss Foster's holiday apartment, +and then by the _dortoir_, and another good talk in the moonlight until +sleep overwhelmed the talkers. Bessie dropt off with the thought in her +mind that her father and dear Harry Musgrave must be just about going on +board the vessel at Havre that was to carry them to Hampton, and that +when she woke up in the morning they would be on English soil once more, +and riding home to Beechhurst through the dewy glades of the Forest.... + +This account of twenty-four hours will stand for the whole of that first +week of Bessie's exile. Only the walks of an afternoon were varied. In +company with dull, neuralgic Miss Foster the two pupils visited the +famous stone-quarries above the town, out of which so many grand +churches have been built; they compassed the shaded Cours; they +investigated the museum, and Bessie was introduced to the pretty +portrait of Charlotte Corday, in a simple cross-over white gown, a blue +sash and mob-cap. Afterward she was made acquainted with a lady of +royalist partialities, whose mother had actually known the heroine, and +had lived through the terrible days of the Terror. Her tradition was +that the portrait of Charlotte was imaginary, and, as to her beauty, +delusive, and that the tragical young lady's moving passion was a +passion for notoriety. Bessie wondered and doubted, and began to think +history a most interesting study. + +For another "treat," as Janey Fricker called it, they went on the Sunday +to drink tea with Miss Foster at her mother's. Mrs. Foster was a widow +with ideas of gentility in poverty. She was a chirping, bird-like little +woman, and lived in a room as trellised as a bird-cage. The house was on +the site of the old ramparts, and the garden sloped to the _fosse_. A +magnolia blossomed in it, and delicious pears, of the sort called "Bon +chretiens," ripened on gnarled trees. This week was, in fact, a +beautiful little prelude to school life, if Bessie had but known it. But +her appreciation of its simple pleasures came later, when they were for +ever past. She remembered then, with a sort of remorse, laughing at +Janey's notion of a "treat." Everything goes by comparison. At this time +Bessie had no experience of what it is to live by inelastic rule and +rote, to be ailing and unhappy, alone in a crowd and neglected. Janey +believed in Mrs. Foster's sun-baked little garden as a veritable pattern +of Eden, but Bessie knew the Forest, she knew Fairfield, and almost +despised that mingled patch of beauty and usefulness, of sweet odors and +onions, for Mrs. Foster grew potherbs and vegetables amongst her +flowers. + +Thus Bessie's first week of exile got over, and except for a sense of +being hungry now and then, she did not find herself so very miserable +after all. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_SCHOOL-DAYS AT CAEN._ + + +One morning Bessie Fairfax rose to a new sensation. "To-day the classes +open, and there is an end of treats," cried Janey Fricker with a +despairing resignation. "You will soon see the day-scholars, and by +degrees the boarders will arrive. Madame was to come late last night, +and the next news will be of Miss Hiloe. Perhaps they will appear +to-morrow. Heigh-ho!" + +"You are not to care for Miss Hiloe; I shall stand up for you. I have no +notion of tyrants," said Bessie in a spirited way. But her feelings were +very mixed, very far from comfortable. This morning it seemed more than +ever cruel to have sent her to school at her age, ignorant as she was of +school ways. She shuddered in anticipation of the dreadful moment when +it would be publicly revealed that she could neither play on the piano +nor speak a word of French. Her deficiencies had been confided to Janey +in a shy, shamefaced way, and Janey, who could chatter fluently in +French and play ten tunes at least, had betrayed amazement. Afterward +she had given consolation. There was one boarder who made no pretence of +learning music, and several day-scholars; of course, being French, they +spoke French, but not a girl of them all, not madame herself, could +frame three consecutive sentences in English to be understood. + +In the novelty of the situation Janey was patroness for the day. Madame +Fournier had to be encountered after breakfast, and proved to be a +perfectly small lady, of most intelligent countenance and kind +conciliatory speech. She kissed Janey on both cheeks, and bent a +penetrating pair of brown eyes on Bessie's face, which looked intensely +proud in her blushing shyness. Madame had received from Mrs. Wiley (a +former pupil and temporary teacher) instructions that Bessie's education +and training had been of the most desultory kind, and that it was +imperatively necessary to remedy her deficiencies, and give her a +veneering of cultivation and a polish to fit her for the station of life +to which she was called. Madame was able to judge for herself in such +matters. Bessie impressed her favorably, and no humiliation was +inflicted on her even as touching her ignorance of French and the piano. +It was decreed that as Bessie professed no enthusiasm for music, it +would be wasting time that might be more profitably employed to teach +her; and a recommendation to the considerate indulgence of Mademoiselle +Adelaide, who was in charge of the junior class, saved her from huffs +and ridicule while going through the preliminary paces of French. + +At recreation-time in the garden Janey ran up to ask how she had got on. +"_J'ai, tu as, il a_," said Bessie, and laughed with radiant audacity. +Her phantoms were already vanishing into thin air. + +Not many French girls were yet present. The next noon-day they were +doubled. By Saturday all were come, and answered to their names when the +roll was called, the great and dreadful Miss Hiloe amongst them. They +were two, Mademoiselle Ada and Mademoiselle Ellen. The younger sister +was a cipher--an echo of the elder, and an example of how she ought to +be worshipped. Mademoiselle Ada would be a personage wherever she was. +Already her _role_ in the world was adopted. She had a pale Greek face, +a lofty look, and a proud spirit. She was not rude to those who paid +her the homage that was her due--she was, indeed, helpful and +patronizing to the humble--but for a small Mordecai like Janey Fricker +she had nothing but insolence and rough words. Janey would not bow down +to her; in her own way Janey was as stubborn and proud as her tyrant, +but she was not as strong. She was a waif by herself, and Mademoiselle +Ada was obeyed, served, and honored by a large following of admirers. +Bessie Fairfax did not feel drawn to enroll herself amongst them, and +before the classes had been a month assembled she had rejoiced the heart +of the master-mariner's little daughter with many warm, affectionate +assurances that there was no one else in all the school that she loved +so well as herself. + +By degrees, and very quick degrees, Bessie's tremors for how she should +succeed at school wore off. What fantastic distresses she would have +been saved if she had known beforehand that she possessed a gift of +beauty, more precious in the sight of girls than the first place in the +first class, than the utmost eloquence of tongues, and the most +brilliant execution on the piano! It came early to be disputed whether +Mademoiselle Ada or Mademoiselle Bessie was the _belle des belles_; and +Bessie, too, soon had her court of devoted partisans, who extolled her +fair roseate complexion, blue eyes, and golden hair as lovelier far than +Mademoiselle Ada's cold, severe perfection of feature. Bessie took their +praises very coolly, and learnt her verbs, wrote her _dictees_, and +labored at her _themes_ with the solid perseverance of a girl who has +her charms to acquire. The Miss Hiloes were not unwilling to be on good +terms with her, but that, she told them, was impossible while they were +so ostentatiously discourteous to her friend, Janey Fricker. When to her +armor of beauty Bessie added the weapon of fearless, incisive speech, +the risk of affronts was much abated. Mr. Carnegie had prophesied wisely +when he said for his wife's consolation that character tells more in the +long-run than talking French or playing on the piano. Her companions +might like Bessie Fairfax, or they might let liking alone, but very few +would venture a second time on ill-natured demonstrations either towards +herself or towards any one she protected. + +Bessie's position in the community was established when the tug of work +began. Her health and complexion triumphed over the coarse, hard fare; +her habits of industry made application easy; but the dulness and +monotony were sickening to her, the routine and confinement were hateful +yoke and bondage. Saving one march on Sunday to the Temple under Miss +Foster's escort, she went nowhere beyond the garden for weeks together. +Both French and English girls were in the same case, unless some friend +residing in the town or visiting it obtained leave to take them out. And +nobody came for Bessie. That she should go home to Beechhurst for a +Christmas holiday she had taken for granted; and while abiding the +narrow discipline, and toiling at her unaccustomed tasks with +conscientious diligence, that flattering anticipation made sunshine in +the distance. Every falling leaf, every chill breath of advancing +winter, brought it nearer. Janey and she used to talk of it half their +recreation-time--by the stagnant, weedy fountain in the garden at noon, +and in the twilight windows of the _classe_, when thoughts of the absent +are sweetest. For the Petrel had not come into port at Caen since the +autumn, and Janey was still left at school in daily expectation and +uncertainty. + +"I am only sorry, Janey, that you are not sure of going home too," said +Bessie, one day, commiserating her. + +"If I am not sailing with father I would rather be here. _I_ am not so +lonely since you came," responded Janey. + +Then Bessie dilated on the pleasantness of the doctor's house, the +excellent kindness of her father and mother, the goodness of the boys, +the rejoicing there would be at her return, both amongst friends at +Beechhurst and friends at Brook. Each day, after she had indulged her +memory and imagination in this strain, her heart swelled with loving +expectancy, and when the recess was spoken of as beginning "next week," +she could hardly contain herself for joy. + +What a cruel pity that such natural delightsome hopes must all collapse, +all fall to the ground! It was ruled by Mr. Fairfax that his +granddaughter had been absent so short a time that she need not go to +England this winter season. Came a letter from Mrs. Carnegie to express +the infinite disappointment at home. And there an end. + +"I cried for three days," Bessie afterward confessed. "It seemed that +there never could befall me such another misery." + +It was indeed terrible. In a day the big house was empty of scholars. +Madame Fournier adjourned to Bayeux. Miss Foster went to her mother. The +masters, the other teachers disappeared, all except Mademoiselle +Adelaide, who was to stay in charge of the two girls for a fortnight, +and then to resign her office for the same period to Miss Foster. There +was a month of this heartless solitude before Bessie and Janey. +Mademoiselle Adelaide bemoaned herself as their jailer, as much in +prison as they. They had good grounds of complaint. A deserted school at +Christmas-time is not a cheerful place. + +But there was compensation preparing for Bessie. + + * * * * * + +"And when does Bessie Fairfax come?" was almost the first question of +Harry Musgrave when he arrived from Oxford. + +"Bessie is not to come at all," was the answer. + +What was that for? He proceeded to an investigation. There was a streak +of lively, strong perversity in Harry Musgrave. Remarks had been passed +on his accompanying Mr. Carnegie when he conveyed Bessie to +school--quite uncalled-for remarks, which had originated at Fairfield +and the rectory. The impertinence of them roused Harry's temper, and, +boy-like, he instantly resolved that if his dear little Bessie was kept +away from home and punished on his account, he would give her meddlesome +friends something to talk about by going to Caen again and seeing her in +spite of them. He made out with clearness enough to satisfy his +conscience that Lady Latimer and Mrs. Wiley gave themselves unnecessary +anxiety about Mr. Fairfax's granddaughter, and that he was perfectly +justified in circumventing their cautious tactics. He did not speak of +his intention to the Carnegies, lest he should meet with a remonstrance +that he would be forced to yield to; but he told his sympathizing mother +that he was going to spend five pounds of his pocket-money in a run +across to Normandy to see Bessie Fairfax. Mrs. Musgrave asked if it was +quite wise, quite kind, for Bessie's sake. He was sure that Bessie would +be glad, and he did not care who was vexed. + +Harry Musgrave gave himself no leisure to reconsider the matter, but +went off to Hampton, to Havre, to Caen, with the lightest heart and most +buoyant spirit in the world. He put up at Thunby's, and in the frosty +sunshine of the next morning marched with the airs and sensations of a +lover in mischief to the Rue St. Jean. Louise, that sage portress, +recognized the bold young cousin of the English _belle des belles_, and +announced him to Mademoiselle Adelaide. After a parley Bessie was +permitted to receive him, to go out with him, to be as happy as three +days were long. Harry told her how and why he had come, and Bessie was +furiously indignant at the Wileys pretending to any concern in her +affairs. Towards Lady Latimer she was more indulgent. They spent many +hours in company, and told all their experiences. Harry talked of dons +and proctors, of work and play, of hopes and projects, of rivals and +friends. Bessie had not so much to tell: she showed him the _classe_ and +her place there, and introduced him to Janey. They visited all the +public gardens and river-side walks. They were beautiful young people, +and were the observed of many observers. The sagacious _cure_ of St. +Jean's, the confessor and director at the school, saw them by chance on +the morning of a day when he had a mission to Bayeux. What more natural +than that he should call upon Madame Fournier at her uncle the canon's +house? and what more simple than that he should mention having met the +English _belle_ and her cousin of the dangerous sex? + +Bessie Fairfax and Janey Fricker attended vespers regularly on Sunday +afternoons at the church of St. Jean; but they were not amongst the fair +penitents who whispered their peccadilloes once a fortnight in the +_cure's_ ear--he secluded in an edifice of chintz like a shower-bath, +they kneeling outside the curtain with the blank eyes of the Holy Mother +upon them, and the remote presence of a guardian-teacher out of hearing. +But he took an interest in them. No overt act of proselytism was +permitted in the school, but if an English girl liked vespers instead of +the second service at the Temple, her preference was not discouraged. +Bessie attended the Protestant ordinances at stated seasons, and went to +vespers and benediction besides. The _cure_ approved of her ingenuous +devotion. Once upon a time there had been Fairfaxes faithful children +of the Church: this young lady was an off-set of that house, its heiress +and hope in this generation; it would be a holy deed to bring her, the +mother perhaps of a new line, within its sacred pale. + +Madame Fournier heard his communication with alarm. Already, by her +ex-teacher Mrs. Wiley, this young Musgrave had been spoken against with +voice of warning. Madame returned to Caen with her worthy pastor. The +enterprising lover was just flown. Bessie had a sunshine face. +Mademoiselle Adelaide wept that night because of the reproaches madame +made her, and the following morning Bessie was invited to resume her +lessons, and was mulcted of every holiday indulgence. Janey Fricker +suffered with her, and for nearly a week they were all _en penitence_. +Then Miss Foster came; madame vanished without leave-taking, as if +liable to reappear at any instant, and lessons lapsed back into leisure. +Bessie felt that she had been an innocent scapegrace, and Harry very +venturesome; but she had so much enjoyed her "treat," and felt so much +the happier for it, that, all madame's grave displeasure +notwithstanding, she never was properly sorry. + +Harry Musgrave returned to England as jubilant as he left Bessie. The +trip, winter though it was, exhilarated him. But it behooved him to be +serious when Mr. Carnegie was angry, and Mrs. Carnegie declared that she +did not know how to forgive him. If his escapade were made known to Mr. +Fairfax, the upshot might be a refusal to let Bessie revisit them at +Beechhurst throughout the whole continuance of her school-days. And that +was what came of it. Of course his escapade was communicated to Mr. +Fairfax, and Madame Fournier received a letter from Abbotsmead with the +intimation that the youth who had presented himself in the Rue St. Jean +as a cousin of Miss Fairfax was nothing akin to her, and that if she +could not be secured from his presumptuous intrusions there, she must be +removed from madame's custody. They had associated together as children, +but it was desirable to stay the progress of their unequal friendship as +they grew up; for the youth, though well conducted and clever, was of +mean origin and poor condition; so Mr. Fairfax was credibly informed. +And he trusted that Madame Fournier would see the necessity of a +decisive separation between them. + +Madame did see the necessity. With Mr. Fairfax's letter came to her +hand another, a letter from the "youth" himself, but addressed to his +dear Bessie. That it should ever reach her was improbable. There was the +strictest quarantine for letters in the Rue St. Jean. Even letters to +and from parents passed through madame's private office. She opened and +read Harry Musgrave's as an obvious necessity, smiled over its boyish +exaggeration, and relished its fun at her own expense, for madame was a +woman of wisdom and humor. Little by little she had learnt the whole of +Bessie's life and conversation from her own lips; and she felt that +there was nothing to be feared from a lover of young Musgrave's type, +unless he was set on mischief by the premature interposition of +obstacles, of which this denial to Bessie of her Christmas holiday was +an example. + +However, madame had not to judge, but to act. She returned Harry +Musgrave his letter, with a polite warning that such a correspondence +with a girl at school was silly and not to be thought of. Harry blushed +a little, felt foolish, and put the document into the fire. Madame made +him confess to himself that he had gone to Caen as much for bravado as +for love of Bessie. Bessie never knew of the letter, but she cherished +her pretty romance in her heart, and when she was melancholy she thought +of the garden at Brook, and of the beeches by the stream where they had +sat and told their secrets on their farewell afternoon; and in her +imagination her dear Harry was a perfect friend and lover. + + * * * * * + +That episode passed out of date. Bessie gave her mind to improvement. +Discovery was made that she had a sweet singing voice, and, late in the +day as it seemed to begin, she undertook to learn the piano, on the plea +that it would be useful if she could only play enough to accompany +herself in a song. She had her dancing-lessons, her drawing-lessons, and +as much study of grammars, dictionaries, histories, geographies, and +sciences-made-easy as was good for her, and every day showed her more +and more what a dunce she was. Madame, however, treated her as a girl +who had _des moyens_, and she was encouraged to believe that when she +had done with school she would make as creditable a figure in the world +as most of her contemporaries. + +How far off her _debut_ might be no one had yet inquired. Since her late +experiences there was little certainty in Bessie's expectations of going +to Beechhurst for the long vacation which began in July. And it was +salutary that she entertained a doubt, for it mitigated disappointment +when it came. About a fortnight before the breaking up madame sent for +her one evening in to the _salon_, and with much consideration informed +her that it was arranged she should go with her to Bayeux and to the +sea, instead of going to England. Bessie had acquired the art of +controlling her feelings, and she accepted the fiat in silence. But she +felt a throb of vindictive rage against her grandfather, and said in her +heart that to live in a world where such men were masters, women ought +to be made of machinery. She refused to write to him, but she wrote home +to Beechhurst, and asked if any of them were coming to see her. But the +loving joint reply of her father and mother was that they thought it +better not. + +Madame Fournier was indulgent in holiday-time, and Bessie was better +pleased at Bayeux than she had thought it possible to be. The canon +proved to be the most genial of old clergymen. He knew all the romance +of French history, and gave Bessie more instruction in their peripatetic +lectures about that drowsy, ancient city than she could have learnt in a +year of dull books. Then there was Queen Matilda's famous tapestry to +study in the museum, a very retired, rustic nook, all embowered in +vines. Bessie also practised sketching, for Bayeux is rich in bits of +street scenery--gables, queer windows, gateways, flowery balconies. And +she was asked into society with madame, and met the gentlefolks who kept +their simple, retired state about the magnificent cathedral. Before +Bayeux palled she was carried off to Luc-sur-Mer, the canon going too, +also in the care of madame his niece. + +Bessie's regret next to that for home was for the loneliness of Janey +Fricker, left with Miss Foster in the Rue St. Jean. She wished for Janey +to walk with her in the rough sea-wind, to bathe with her, and talk with +her. One morning when the sun was glorious on the dancing waves, she +cried out her longing for her little friend. The next day Janey arrived +by the diligence. Mr. Fairfax had given madame _carte blanche_ for the +holiday entertainment of his granddaughter, and madame was glad to be +able to content her so easily. Luc-sur-Mer is not a place to be +enthusiastic about. Its beauty is moderate--a shelving beach, a +background of sand-hills, and the rocky reef of Calvados. The canon took +his gentle paces with a broad-brimmed abbe from Avranches, and madame +was happy in the society of a married sister from Paris. The two girls +did as they pleased. They were very fond of one another, and this +sentiment is enough for perfect bliss at their age. Bessie had never +wavered in her protecting kindness to Janey, and Janey served her now +with devotion, and promised eternal remembrance and gratitude. + +When a fortnight came to an end at Luc-sur-Mer, Bessie returned to +Bayeux, and Janey went back to the Rue St. Jean. Before the school +reopened came into port at Caen the Petrel, and John Fricker, the +master-mariner, carried away his daughter. Janey left six lines of +hasty, tender adieu with Miss Foster for her friend, but no address. She +only said that she was "Going to sail with father." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_IN COURSE OF TIME._ + + +For days, weeks, months the memory of lost Janey Fricker haunted Bessie +Fairfax with a sweet melancholy. She missed her little friend +exceedingly. She did not doubt that Janey would write, would return, and +even a year of silence and absence did not cure her of regret and +expectation. She was of a constant as well as a faithful nature, and had +a thousand kind pleas and excuses for those she loved. It was impossible +to believe that Janey had forgotten her, but Janey made no sign of +remembrance. + +Time and change! Time and change! How fast they get over the ground! how +light the traces they leave behind them! At the next Christmas recess +there was a great exodus of English girls. The Miss Hiloes went, and +they had no successors. When Bessie wanted to talk of Janey and old +days, she had to betake herself to Miss Foster. There was nobody else +left who remembered Janey or her own coming to school. + +As the time went on letters from Beechhurst were fewer and farther +between; letters from Brook she had none, nor any mention of Harry +Musgrave in her mother's. Her grandfather desired to wean her from early +associations, and a mixture of pride and right feeling kept the +Carnegies from whatever could be misconstrued into a wish to thwart him. +No one came to see her from the Forest after that rash escapade of Harry +Musgrave's. Her eighteenth birthday passed, and she was still kept at +school both in school-time and holidays. + +Madame Fournier, the genial canon, the kind _cure_, a few English +acquaintances at Caen, a few French acquaintances at Bayeux, were very +good to her. Especially she liked her visits to the canon's house in +summer. Often, as the long vacation of her third year at Caen +approached, she caught herself musing on the probability of her recall +to England with a reluctancy full of doubts and fears. She had been so +long away that she felt half forgotten, and when madame announced that +once more she was to spend the autumn under her protection, she heard it +without remonstrance, and, for the moment, with something like relief. +But afterward, when the house was silent and the girls were all gone, +the unbidden tears rose often to her eyes, and the yearning of +home-sickness came upon her as strongly as in the early days of her +exile. + +Bayeux is a _triste_ little city, and in hot weather a perfect sun-trap +between its two hills. The river runs softly hidden amongst willows, and +the dust rises in light clouds with scarce a breath of air. Yet glimpses +of cool beautiful green within gates and over stone walls refresh the +eyes; vines drape the placid rustic nook that calls itself the library; +every other window in the streets is a garland or a posy, and through +the doors ajar show vistas of oleanders, magnolias, pomegranates +flowering in olive-wood tubs, and making sweet lanes and hedges across +tiled courts to the pleasant gloom of the old houses. + +Canon Fournier's house was in the neighborhood of the cathedral, and as +secluded, green, and garlanded as any. Oftentimes in the day his man +Launcelot watered the court-yard in agreeable zigzags. Bessie Fairfax, +when she heard the cool tinkle of the shower upon the stones, always +looked out to share the refreshment. The canon's _salon_ was a double +room with a _portiere_ between. Two windows _gave_ upon the court and +two upon a shaded, paved terrace, from which a broad flight of steps +descended to the garden. The domain of the canon's housekeeper was at +one end of this terrace, and there old Babette sat in the cool shelling +peas, shredding beans, and issuing orders to Margot in the sultry +atmosphere of the kitchen stove. Bessie, alone in the _salon_ one August +morning, heard the shrill monotone of her voice in the pauses of a +day-dream. She had dropped her book because, try as she would to hold +her attention to the story, her thoughts lost themselves continually, +and were found again at every turning of the page astray somewhere about +the Forest--about home. + +"It is very strange! I cannot help thinking of them. I wonder whether +anything is happening?" she said, and yielded to the subtle influence. +She began to walk to and fro the _salon_. She went over in her mind many +scenes; she recollected incidents so trivial that they had been long ago +forgotten--how Willie had broken the wooden leg of little Polly's new +Dutch doll (for surgical practice), and how Polly had raised the whole +house with her lamentations. And then she fell to reckoning how old the +boys would be now and how big, until suddenly she caught herself +laughing through tears at that cruel pang of her own when, after +submitting to be the victim of Harry Musgrave's electrical experiments, +he had neglected to reward her with the anticipated kiss. "I wonder +whether he remembers?--girls remember such silly things." In this fancy +she stood still, her bright face addressed towards the court. Through +the trees over the wall appeared the gray dome of the cathedral. +Launcelot came sauntering and waving his watering-can. The stout figure +of the canon issued from the doorway of a small pavilion which he called +his _omnibus_, passed along under the shadow of the wall, and out into +the glowing sun. Madame entered the _salon_, her light quick steps +ringing on the _parquet_, her holiday voice clear as a carol, her +holiday figure gay as a showy-plumaged bird. + +"Ma cherie, tu n'es pas sortie? tu ne fais rien?" + +Bessie awoke from her reverie, and confessed that she was idle this +morning, very idle and uncomfortably restless: it was the heat, she +thought, and she breathed a vast sigh. Madame invited her to _do_ +something by way of relief to her _ennui_, and after a brief considering +fit she said she would go into the cathedral, where it was the coolest, +and take her sketching-block. + +Oh, for the moist glades of the Forest, for the soft turf under foot and +the thick verdure overhead! Bessie longed for them with all her heart as +she passed upon the sun-baked stones to the great door of the cathedral. +The dusk of its vaulted roof was not cool and sweet like the arching of +green branches, but chill with damp odors of antiquity. She sat down in +one of the arcades near the portal above the steps that descend into the +nave. The immense edifice seemed quite empty. The perpetual lamp burned +before the altar, and wandering echoes thrilled in the upper galleries. +Through a low-browed open door streamed across the aisle a flood of +sunshine, and there was the sound of chisel and mallet from the same +quarter, the stone-yard of the cathedral; but there was no visible +worshipper--nothing to interrupt her mood of reverie. + +For a long while, that is. Presently chimed in with the music of chisel +and mallet the ring of eager young footsteps outside, young men's +footsteps, voices and dear English speech. One was freely translating +from his guide-book: "The cathedral, many times destroyed, was rebuilt +after the fire of 1106, and not completed until the eighteenth century. +It is therefore of several styles. The length is one hundred and two +metres and the height twenty-three metres from floor to vault." + +Bessie's breath came and went very fast; so did the blood in her cheeks. +Surely that voice she knew. It was Harry Musgrave's voice, and this was +why thoughts of the Forest had haunted her all the morning. + +The owner of the voice entered, and it was Harry Musgrave--he and two +others, all with the fresh air of British tourists not long started on +their tour, knapsack on back and walking-stick in hand. They pulled off +their gray wideawakes and stared about, lowering their manly tones as +they talked; stood a few minutes considering the length, breadth, +height, and beauty of general effect in the nave and the choir, and then +descended the steps, and in the true national spirit of inquiry walked +straight to the stream of sunshine that revealed a door opening into +some place unseen. Bessie, sitting in retired shade, escaped their +observation. She laughed to herself with an inexpressible gladness. It +was certainly not by accident that Harry was here. She would have liked +to slip along the aisle in his shadow, to have called him by his name, +but the presence of his two unknown companions, and some diffidence in +herself, restrained her until the opportunity was gone, and he +disappeared, inveigled by the sacristan into making the regular tour of +the building. She knew every word he would hear, every antiquity he +would admire. She saw him in the choir turning over the splendid +manuscript books of Holy Writ and of the Mass which were in use in the +church when the kings of England were still dukes of Normandy; saw him +carried off into the crypt where is shown the pyx of those long-ago +times, a curious specimen of mediaeval work in brass; and after that she +lost him. + +Would they climb the dome, those enterprising young men? Bessie took it +for granted that they would. But she must see dear Harry again; and oh +for a word with him! Perhaps he would seek her out--he might have learnt +from her mother where she was at Bayeux--or perhaps he would not _dare_? +Not that Harry's character had ever lacked daring where his wishes were +concerned; still, recollecting the trouble that had come of his former +unauthorized visit, he might deny himself for her sake. It was not +probable, and Bessie would not have bidden him deny himself; she would +willingly go through the same trouble again for the same treat. Why had +she not taken courage to arrest his progress? How foolish, how heartless +it would appear to-morrow if the chance were not renewed to her to-day! +She would not have done so silly a thing three years ago--her impulse to +follow him, to call out his name, would have been irresistible--but now +she felt shy of him. A plague on her shyness! + +Bessie's little temper had the better of her for a minute or two. She +was very angry with herself, would never forgive herself, she said, if +by her own trivial fault she had thrown away this favor of kind Fortune. +What must she do, what could she do, to retrieve her blunder? Where seek +for him? How find him? She quivered, grew hot and cold again with +excitement. Should she go to the Green Square?--he was sure to visit +that quarter. Then she remembered a high window in the canon's house +that commanded the open spaces round the cathedral; she would go and +watch from that high window. It was a long while before she arrived at +this determination; she waited to see if the strangers would return to +the beautiful chapter-house, to admire its fine tesselated floor and +carved stalls, and its chief treasure in the exquisite ivory crucifix of +the unfortunately famous princess De Lamballe; but they did not return, +and then she hastened home, lest she should be too late. Launcelot was +plying his water-can for the sixth time that morning when she entered +the court, and she stood in an angle of shadow to feel the air of the +light shower. + +"Here she is, and just the same as ever!" exclaimed somebody at the +_salon_ window. + +Bessie was startled into a cry of joy. It was Harry Musgrave himself. +Madame Fournier had been honored with his society for quite half an hour +while his little friend was loitering and longing pensively in the +cathedral. All that lost, precious time! Bessie never recollected how +they met, or what they said to each other in the first moments, but +Babette, who witnessed the meeting through the glass door at the end of +the hall which opened on the terrace, had a firm belief ever afterward +that the English ladies and gentlemen embrace with a kiss after +absence--a sign whether of simplicity or freedom of manners, she could +not decide; so she wisely kept her witness to herself, being a sage +person and of discreet experiences. + +They returned into the _salon_ together. It was full of the perfume of +roses, of the wavering shadow of leaves on the floor and walls and +ceiling. It looked bright and pretty, and madame, with suave benignity, +explained: "I told Mr. Musgrave that it was better to wait here, and not +play hide-and-seek; Bessie was sure to come soon." + +"I saw you in the cathedral, Harry; you passed close by me. It was so +difficult not to cry out!" + +"You saw me in the cathedral, and did not run up to me? Oh, Bessie!" + +"There were two other gentlemen with you." Bessie, though conscious of +her wickedness, saw no harm in extenuating it. + +"If there had been twenty, what matter? Would I have let you pass me? If +I had not found courage to seek you here--and it required some courage, +and some perseverance, too--why, I should have missed you altogether." + +Bessie laughed: here were they sparring as if they had parted no longer +ago than yesterday! Then she blushed, and all at once they came to +themselves, and began to be graver and more restrained. + +"My friends are Fordyce and Craik; they have gone to study the Tapestry. +I said I would look in at it later with you, Bessie: I counted on you +for my guide," announced Harry with native assurance. + +Bessie launched a supplicatory glance at madame, then hazarded a +doubtful consent, which did not provoke a denial. After that they moved +to the garden-end of the _salon_, and seated themselves in friendly +proximity. Then Bessie asked to be told all about them at home. All +about them was not a long story. The doctor's family had not arrived at +the era of dispersion and changes; the three years that had been so +long, full, and important to Bessie had passed in his house like three +monotonous days. The same at Brook. + +"The fathers and mothers, yours and mine, are not an hour altered," +Harry Musgrave said. "The boys are grown. Jack is a sturdy little +ruffian, as you might expect; no boy in the Forest runs through so many +clothes as Jack--that's the complaint. There is a talk of sending him to +sea, and he is deep in Marryat's novels for preparation." + +"Poor Jack, he was a sad Pickle, but _so_ affectionate! And Willie and +the others?" queried Bessie rather mournfully. + +Concerning Willie and the others there was a favorable account. Of all +Bessie's old friends and acquaintances not one was lost, not one had +gone away. But talk of them was only preliminary to more interesting +talk of themselves, modestly deferred, but well lingered over once it +was begun. Harry Musgrave could not tell Bessie too much--he could not +explain with too exact a precision the system of college-life, its +delights and drawbacks. He had been very successful; he had won many +prizes, and anticipated the distinction of a high degree--all at the +cost of work. One term he had not gone up to Oxford. The doctor had +ordered him to rest. + +"Still, you are not quite killed with study," said Bessie gayly, +rallying him. She thought the school-life of girls was as laborious as +the college-life of young men, with much fewer alleviations. + +"That was never my way. I can make a spurt if need be. But it is safer +to keep a steady, even pace." + +"And what are you going to do for a profession, Harry? Have you made up +your mind yet?" + +Harry had made up his mind to win a fellowship at Oxford, and then to +enter himself at one of the Inns of Court and read for the bar. For +physic and divinity he had no taste, but the law would suit him. Bessie +was ineffably depressed by this information: what romance is there in +the law for the imagination of eighteen? If Harry had said he was going +to throw himself on the world as a poor author, she would have bestowed +upon him a fund of interest and sympathy. To win a little of such +encouragement Harry added that while waiting for briefs he might be +forced to betake himself to the cultivation of light literature, of +journalism, or even of parliamentary reporting: many men, now of mark, +had done so. Then Bessie was better satisfied. "But oh what a prodigious +wig you will want!" was her rueful conclusion. + +"Have I such a Goliath head?" Harry inquired, rubbing his large hands +through his crisp, abundant locks. They were as much all in a fuzz as +ever, but his skin was not so gloriously tanned, and his hands were +white instead of umber. Bessie noticed them: they were whiter and more +delicate than her own. + +Harry Musgrave had no conceit, but plenty of confidence, and he knew +that his head was a very good head. It had room for plenty of brains, +and Harry was of opinion that it is far more desirable to be born with +a fortune in brains than with the proverbial silver spoon in one's +mouth. He would have laughed to scorn the vulgar notion that to be born +in the purple or in a wilderness of money-bags is more than an +equivalent, and would have bid you see the little value God sets on +riches by observing the people to whom He gives them. Birth, he would +have granted, ensures a man a long step at starting, but unless he have +brains his rival without ancestors will pass him in the race for +distinction. This was young Musgrave's creed at three-and-twenty. He +expounded it to Bessie, who heard him with a puzzled perception of +something left out. Harry, like many another man at the beginning of +life, reckoned without the unforeseen. + +The sum of Bessie's experiences, adventures, opinions was not long. Her +mind had not matured at school as it would have done in the practical +education of home. She had acquired a graceful carriage and propriety of +behavior, and she had learned a little more history, with a few dates +and other things that are written in books; but of current literature +and current events, great or small, she had learned nothing. For +seclusion a French school is like a convent. She had a sense of humor +and a sense of justice--qualities not too common in the sex; and she had +a few liberal notions, the seed of which had been sown during her rides +with the doctor. They would probably outlive her memory for the shadowy +regions of chronology. Then she had a clear and strong sentiment with +regard to the oppressive manner in which her grandfather had exercised +his right and power over her, which gave a tincture to her social views +not the most amiable. She was confessedly happier with Madame Fournier +at Bayeux than she had any anticipation of being at Abbotsmead, but she +had nevertheless a feeling of injury in being kept in a state of +pupilage. She had wrought up her mind to expect a recall to England when +she was eighteen, and no recall had come. Harry Musgrave's inquiry when +she was to leave school brought a blush to her face. She was ashamed to +answer that she did not know. + +"Lady Latimer should interfere for you," suggested Harry, who had not +received a lively impression of her lot. + +Bessie's countenance cleared with a flash, and her thoughts were +instantly diverted to Fairfield and its gracious mistress--that bright +particular star of her childish imagination: "Oh, Harry, have you made +friends with Lady Latimer?" asked she. + +"I have not been to her house, because she has never asked me since that +time I despised her commands, but we have a talk when we meet on the +road. Her ladyship loves all manner of information, and is good enough +to take an interest in my progress. I know she takes an interest in it, +because she recollects what I tell her--not like our ascetic parson, who +forgets whether I am at Balliol or Oriel, and whether I came out first +class or fourth in moderations." + +"I wish I could meet Lady Latimer on the road or anywhere! Seeing you +makes me long to go home, Harry," said Bessie with a sigh. Harry +protested that she ought to go home, and promised that he would speak +about it--he would go to Fairfield immediately on his return to the +Forest, and beg Lady Latimer to intercede in her behalf. Bessie had a +doubt whether this was a judicious plan, but she did not say so. The +hope of deliverance, once admitted into her mind, overcame all +perplexities. + +A little while and the canon came in glowing hot. "_Pouf!_" and he wiped +his rubicund, round visage with a handkerchief as brilliant. Coming +straight from the glare out of doors, he was not aware of the stranger +in the _salon_ till his eyes were used to the gloom. Then madame and +Bessie effected Harry's introduction, and as Harry, with a rare wisdom, +had practised colloquial French, he and the canon were soon acquainted. +Once only had the old man visited England, a visit for ever memorable on +account of the guinea he had paid for his first dinner in London. + +"Certainly, they took you for an archbishop or for a monsigneur," said +Harry, when the old story of this cruel extortion was recited to him. +The canon was pleased. This explanation gave a color of flattery to his +infamous wrong. And madame thought her brother had quite _l'air noble_. + +Babette summoned them to _dejeuner_. Harry stayed gladly at a hint of +invitation. Across the table the two young people had a full view of +each other, and satisfied their eyes with gazing. Bessie looked lovely +in her innocent delight, and Harry had now a maturer appreciation of +her loveliness. He himself had more of the student aspect, and an air of +lassitude, which he ascribed, as he had been instructed, to overstrain +in reading for the recent examinations. This was why he had come +abroad--the surest way of taking mental rest and refreshment. +Incidentally he mentioned that he had given up boating and athletic +exercises, under Mr. Carnegie's direction. Bessie only smiled, and +reflected that it was odd to hear of Harry Musgrave taking care of +himself. One visitor from England on a day would have been enough, but +by a curious coincidence, as they sat all at ease, through the open +window from the court there sounded another English voice, demanding +Madame Fournier and Miss Fairfax. + +"Who can it be?" said Bessie, and she craned her fair neck to look, +while a rosy red suffused her face from chin to brow. + +The canon and madame laid down their knives and forks to listen, and +involuntarily everybody's eyes turned upon Harry. He could not forbear a +smile and a glance of intelligence at Bessie; for he had an instant +suspicion that this new-comer was an emissary from Mr. Fairfax, and from +her agitation so had she. Launcelot held a short, prompt parley at the +gate, then Babette intervened, and next was audible the advance of a +firm, even step into the hall, and the closing of the _salon_ door. +"Encore un beau monsieur pour mademoiselle," announced the housekeeper, +and handed in a card inscribed with the name of "Mr. Cecil Burleigh," +and a letter of introduction from Mr. Fairfax. + +Bessie's heart went pit-a-pat while madame read the letter, and Harry +feared that he would probably have to find his way to the Tapestry +without a guide. Madame's countenance was inscrutable, but she said to +Bessie, "Calme-toi, mon enfant," and finished her meal with extreme +deliberation. Then with a perfect politeness, and an utter oblivion of +the little arrangement for a walk to the library that Harry and Bessie +had made, she gave him his _conge_ in the form of a hope that he would +never fail to visit her when he found himself at Caen or Bayeux. Harry +accepted it with a ready apprehension of the necessity for his +dismissal, and without alluding to the Tapestry made his respectful +acknowledgments to madame and the canon preparatory to bidding Bessie +farewell. + +Under the awning over the _perron_ they said their good-byes. Bessie, +frank-hearted girl, was disappointed even to the glittering of tears. +"It has been very pleasant. I am so happy you came!" whispered she with +a tremor. + +"God bless you, dear little Bessie! Give me this for a keepsake," said +Harry, and took a white, half-blown rose which she wore in the bosom of +her pretty dress of lilac _percale_. She let him have it. Then they +stood for a minute face to face and hand in hand, but the delicate +perplexities of Babette, spying through her glass door, were not +increased by a kiss at parting. And the young man seemed to rush away at +last in sudden haste. + +"Montes dans ta chambre quelques instants, Bessie," said the voice of +madame. And then with a gentle, decorous dignity she entered the +_salon_. + + * * * * * + +When madame entered the _salon_, Mr. Cecil Burleigh was standing at one +of the windows that _gave_ upon the court. He witnessed the departure of +Harry Musgrave, and did not fail to recognize an Englishman in the best +made of English clothes. The reader will probably recognize _him_ as one +of the guests at the Fairfield wedding, who had shown some attention to +Bessie Fairfax on her grandfather's introduction of him as a neighbor of +his in Woldshire. He was now at Bayeux by leave of Mr. Fairfax, to see +the young lady and take the sense of her opinions as to whether she +would prefer to remain another year at school, or to go back to England +in ten days under his escort. The interval he was on his way to spend in +Paris--on a private errand for the government, to a highly honorable +member of which he was private secretary. + +Mr. Fairfax's letter to madame announced in simple terms the object of +Mr. Cecil Burleigh's mission to Bayeux, and as the gentleman recited it +by word of mouth she grew freezingly formal. To lose Bessie would be a +loss that she had been treating as deferred. Certainly, also, the ways +of the English are odd! To send the young lady on a two days' journey +with this strange gentleman, who was no relative, was impossible. So +well brought up as Bessie had been since she came to Caen, she would +surely refuse the alternative, and decide to remain at school. Madame +replied to the announcement that Miss Fairfax would appear in a few +minutes, and would of course speak for herself. But Bessie was in no +haste to meet the envoy from Kirkham after parting with her beloved +Harry, and when a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and there was still no +sign of her coming, Babette was despatched to the top of the house to +bring her down to the interview. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had taken a chair opposite the door, and he watched +for its reopening with a visible and vivid interest. It opened, and +Bessie walked in with that stately erectness of gait which was +characteristic of the women of her race. "As upright as a Fairfax," was +said of them in more senses than one. She was blushing, and her large +dark blue eyes had the softness of recent tears. She curtseyed, +school-girl fashion, to her grandfather's envoy, and her graceful proud +humility set him instantly at a distance. His programme was to be +lordly, affable, tenderly patronizing, but his dark cheek flushed, and +self-possessed as he was, both by nature and habit, he was suddenly at a +loss how to address this stiff princess about whom he had expected to +find some rags of Cophetua still hanging. But the rags were all gone, +and the little gypsy of the Forest was become a lady. + +Madame intervened with needful explanations. Bessie comprehended the +gist of the embassage very readily. She must take heart for an immediate +encounter with her grandfather and all her other difficulties, or she +must resign herself to a fourth year of exile and of school. Her mind +was at once made up. Since the morning--how long ago it seemed!--an +ardent wish to return to England had begun to glow in her imagination. +She wanted her real life to begin. These dull, monotonous school-days +were only a prelude which had gone on long enough. Therefore she said, +with brief consideration, that her choice would be to return home. + +"To Kirkham understand, _ma cherie_, not to Beechhurst," said madame +softly, warningly. + +"To Kirkham, so be it! Sooner or later I must go there," answered Bessie +with brave resignation. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was apparently gratified by the young lady's +consent, abrupt though it was. But madame's countenance fell. She was +deeply disappointed at this issue. Apart from her pecuniary interest in +Bessie, which was not inconsiderable, Bessie had become a source of +religious concern to influential persons. And there was a favorite +nephew of madame's, domiciled in Paris, about whom visionary schemes had +been indulged, which now all in a moment vanished. This young nephew was +to have come with his mother to Etretat only a week hence, and there the +canon and Madame Fournier were to have joined them, with the beautiful +English girl committed to their charge. It was now good-bye to all such +plots and plans. + +Bessie perceived from her face that madame was distressed, but she did +not know all the reasons why. Madame had been very good to her, and +Bessie felt sorry; but to leave school for home was such a natural, +inevitable episode in the course of life in the Rue St. Jean that, +beyond a momentary regret, she had no compunction. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +proceeded to lay open his arrangements. He was on his road to Paris, +where he might be detained from ten to fifteen days, but madame should +receive a letter from him when the precise time of his return was fixed. +After he had spoken to this effect he rose to take leave, and Bessie, +blushing as she heard her own voice, originated her first remark, her +first question: + +"My grandfather hardly knows me. Does he expect my arrival at Kirkham +with pleasure, or would he rather put it off for another year?" Madame +thought she was already wavering in her determination. + +"I am sure that when I have written to him he will expect your arrival +with the _greatest_ pleasure," replied Mr. Cecil Burleigh with kind +emphasis, retaining Bessie's hand for a moment longer than was +necessary, and relinquishing it with a cordial shake. + +Bessie's blushes did not abate at the compliment implied in his answer +and in his manner: he had been favorably impressed, and would send to +Abbotsmead a favorable report of her. When he was gone she all in a +moment recollected when and where she had seen him before, and wondered +that he had not reminded her of it; but perhaps he had forgotten too? +She soon let go that reminiscence, and with a light heart, in +anticipation of the future which had appeared in the distance so +unpropitious, she talked of it to madame with a thousand random +speculations, until madame was tired of the subject. And then she talked +of it to Babette, who having no private disappointments in connection +therewith, proved patiently and sympathetically responsive. + +"Of course," said Bessie, "we shall go down the river to Havre, and then +we shall cross to Hampton. I shall send them word at home, and some of +them are sure to come and meet me there." + +The letter was written and despatched, and in due course of post arrived +an answer from Mr. Carnegie. He would come to Hampton certainly, and his +wife would come with him, and perhaps one of the boys: they would come +or go anywhere for a sight of their dear Bessie. But, fond, affectionate +souls! they were all doomed to disappointment. Mr. Cecil Burleigh wrote +earlier than was expected that he had intelligence from Kirkham to the +effect that Mr. Frederick Fairfax would be at Havre with his yacht on or +about a certain day, that he would come to Caen and himself take charge +of his niece, and carry her home by sea--to Scarcliffe understood, for +Kirkham was full twenty miles from the coast. + +"Oh, how sorry I am! how sorry they will be in the Forest!" cried +Bessie. "Is there no help for it?" + +Madame was afraid there was no help for it--nothing for it but +submission and obedience. And Bessie wrote to revoke all the cheerful +promises and prospects that she had held out to her friends at +Beechhurst. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +_BESSIE LEARNS A FAMILY SECRET._ + + +Canon Fournier went to Etretat by himself, for madame was bound to +escort her pupil to Caen, to prepare her for her departure to England, +and with her own hands to remit her into those of her friends. Caen is +suffocatingly hot in August--dusty, empty, dull. Mr. Frederick +Fairfax's beautiful yacht, the Foam, was in port at Havre, but it was +understood that a week would elapse before it could be ready to go to +sea again. It had met with some misadventure and wanted repairs. Mr. +Frederick Fairfax came on to Caen, and presented himself in the Rue St. +Jean, where he saw Bessie in the garden. Two chairs were brought out for +them, and they sat and talked to the tinkle of the old fountain. It was +not much either had to say to the other. The gentleman was absent and +preoccupied, like a person accustomed to solitude and long silence; even +while he talked he gave Bessie the impression of being half lost in +reverie. He bore some slight resemblance to his father, and his fair +hair and beard were whitening already, though he appeared otherwise in +the prime of life. + +The day after her uncle's visit there came to Bessie a sage, matronly +woman to offer her any help or information she might need in prospect of +sea-adventures. Mrs. Betts was to attend upon her on board the yacht; +she had decisive ways and spoke like a woman in authority. When Bessie +hesitated she told her what to do. She had been in charge of Mr. +Frederick Fairfax's unfortunate wife during a few weeks' cruise along +the coast. The poor lady was an inmate of the asylum of the Bon Sauveur +at Caen. The Foam had been many times into the port on her account +during Bessie's residence in the Rue St. Jean, but, naturally enough, +Mr. Frederick Fairfax had kept his visits from the knowledge of his +school-girl niece. Now, however, concealment might be abandoned, for if +the facts were not communicated to her here, she would be sure to hear +them at Kirkham. And Mrs. Betts told her the pitiful story. Bessie was +inexpressibly awed and shocked at the revelation. She had not heard a +whisper of the tragedy before. + +One evening in the cool Bessie walked with Miss Foster up the wide +thoroughfare, at the country end of which are the old convent walls and +gardens which enclose the modern buildings of the Bon Sauveur. They were +not a dozen paces from the gates when the wicket was opened by a sister, +and Mr. Frederick Fairfax came out. Bessie's face flushed and her eyes +filled with tears of compassion. + +"You know where I have been, then, Elizabeth?" said he--"to visit my +poor wife. She seems happier in her little room full of birds and +flowers than on the yacht with me, yet the good nuns assure me she is +the better for her sea-trip. The nuns are most kind." + +Bessie acquiesced, and Miss Foster remarked that it was at the Bon +Sauveur gentle usage of the insane had first superseded the cruel old +system of restraints and terror. Mr. Frederick Fairfax shivered, stood a +minute gazing dejectedly into space, and then walked on. + +"He loves her," said Bessie, deeply touched. "I suppose death is a light +affliction in comparison with such a separation." + +The wicket was still open, the sister was still looking out. There was a +glimpse of lofty houses, open windows, grapevines rich in purple +clusters on the walls, and boxes of mignonette and gayer flowers upon +the window-sills. Miss Foster asked Bessie if she would like to see what +of the asylum was shown; and though Bessie's taste did not incline to +painful studies, before she had the decision to refuse she found herself +inside the gates and the sister was reciting her monotonous formula. + +These tall houses in a crescent on the court were occupied by +lady-boarders not suffering from mental alienation or any loss of +faculty, but from decayed fortunes. The deaf and dumb, the blind, the +crippled, epileptic, and insane had separate dwellings built apart in +the formal luxuriant gardens. "We have patients of all nations," said +the sister. "Strangers see none of these; there have been distressing +recognitions." Bessie was not desirous of seeing any. She breathed more +freely when she was outside the gates. It was a nightmare to imagine the +agonies massed within those walls, though all is done that skill and +charity can do for their alleviation. + + * * * * * + +"You will not forget us: if ever you come back to Caen, you will not +forget us?" The speaker was little Mrs. Foster. + +Bessie had learned to love Mrs. Foster's crowded, minute _salon_, her +mixed garden of flowers and herbs; and she had learned to love the old +lady too, by reason of the kindnesses she had done her and her +over-worked daughter. Mr. Fairfax had made his granddaughter an +allowance of pocket-money so liberal that she was never at a loss for a +substantial testimony of her gratitude to any one who earned it. And now +her farewell visits to all who had been kind to her were paid, and she +was surprised how much she was leaving that she regretted. The word had +come for her to be ready at a moment's call. The yacht was in the river, +her luggage was gone on board, and Mrs. Betts had completed her final +arrangements for the comfort of the young lady. Only Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was to wait for--that was the last news for Bessie: Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was to join the yacht, and to be carried to England with her. + +There were three days to wait. The time seemed long in that large vacant +house, that sunburnt secluded garden, that glaring silent court. Bessie +spent hours in the church. It was cool there, and close by if her +summons came. The good _cure_ saw her often, and took no notice. She was +not devout. She was too facile, too philosophical of temper to have +violent preferences or aversions in religion. A less sober mind than +hers would have yielded to the gentle pressure of universal example, but +Bessie was not of those who are given to change. She would have made an +excellent Roman Catholic if she had been born and bred in that +communion, but she had disappointed everybody's pious hopes and efforts +for her conversion to it. She once said to the _cure_ that holiness of +life was the chief thing, and she could not make out that it was the +monopoly of any creed or any sect, or any age of the world. He gave her +his blessing, and, not to acknowledge a complete defeat, he told Madame +Fournier that if the dear young lady met with poignant griefs and +mortifications, for which there were abundant opportunities in her +circumstances, he had expectations that she might then seek refuge and +consolation in the tender arms of the Church. Madame did not agree with +him. She had studied Bessie's character more closely, and believed that +whatever her trials, her strength would always suffice for her day, and +that whatever she changed she would not change her profession of faith +or deny her liberal and practical Protestant principles. + +There was hurry at the end, as in most departures, but it was soon +over, and then followed a delicious calm. The yacht was towed down the +river in the beautiful cool of the evening. A pretty awning shaded the +deck, and there Bessie dined daintily with her uncle and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh, and for the first time in her life was served with polite +assiduity. She looked very handsome and more coquettish than she had any +idea of in her white dress and red _capuchon_, but she felt shy at being +made so much of. She did not readily adapt herself to worship. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh had arrived from Paris only that afternoon, and had many +amusing things to tell of his pleasures and adventures there. He spoke +of Paris as one who loved the gay city, and seemed in excellent spirits. +If his mission had a political object, he must certainly have carried it +through with triumphant success; but his talk was of balls, _fetes_, +plays and shows. + +After they had dined Bessie was left to her memories and musings, while +the gentlemen went pacing up and down the deck in earnest conversation. +It was a perfect evening. The sky was full of color, scarlet, rosy, +violet, primrose--changing, fading, flushing, perpetually. And before +all was gray the moon had risen and was shining in silver floods upon +the sea. In the mystery of moonshine Bessie lost sight of the phantom +poplars that fringe the Orne. The excitement of novelty and uncertainty +routed dull thoughts, and her fancy pruned its wings for a flight into +the future. In the twilight came Mrs. Betts, and cut short the flight of +fancy with prosy suggestions of early retirement to rest. It was easy to +retire, but not so easy to sleep. Bessie's mind was astir. It became +retrospective. She went over the terrors of her first coming to Caen, +the dinner at Thunby's, and the weird talk of Janey Fricker in the +_dortoir_, till melancholy overwhelmed her. + +Where was Janey? Was she still sailing with her father? No news of her +had ever come to the Rue St. Jean since the day she left it. It +sometimes crossed Bessie's mind that Janey was no longer in the land of +the living. At last, with the lulling, soft motion of a breezeless night +on the water, came oblivion and sleep too sound for dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +_ON BOARD THE FOAM._ + + +Life is continuous, so we say, but here and there events happen that +mark off its parts so sharply as almost to sever them. Awaking the next +morning in the tiny gilded cabin of the Foam was the signal of such an +event to Bessie Fairfax. She had put away childish things, and left them +behind her at Caen yesterday. To-day before her, across the Channel, was +a new world to be proved, and a cloudy revelation of the joys and +sorrows, the hopes and fears that nourish the imagination of blooming +adolescence. For a minute she did not realize where she was, and lay +still, with wide-open eyes and ears perplexed, listening to the wash of +the sea. There was a splendid sunshine, a sky blue as sapphire, and a +lovely green ripple of waves against the glass. + +The voice of Mrs. Betts brought her to herself: "I thought it best to +let you sleep your sleep out, miss. The sea-air does it. The gentlemen +have breakfasted two hours ago." + +Bessie was sorry and ashamed. It was with a penitent face she appeared +on deck. But she immediately discovered that this was not school: she +had entire liberty to please and amuse herself. Perhaps if her +imagination had been less engaged she might have found the voyage +tedious. Mrs. Betts told her there was no knowing when they should see +Scarcliffe--it depended on wind and weather and whims. The yacht was to +put in at Ryde to land Mr. Cecil Burleigh; and as the regattas were +going on, they might cruise off the Isle of Wight for a week, maybe, for +the master was never in a hurry. In Bessie's bower there was an +agreeable selection of novels, but she had many successive hours of +silence to dream in when she was tired of heroes and heroines. Mr. +Frederick Fairfax was the most taciturn of men, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh +was constantly busy with pens, ink, and paper. In the long course of the +day he did take shreds of leisure, but they were mostly devoted to +cigars and meditation. Bessie observed that he was older and graver +since that gay wedding at Fairfield--which of course he had a right to +be, for it was three years ago--but he was still and always a very +handsome and distinguished personage. + +In the _salon_ of Canon Fournier at Bayeux, Bessie Fairfax had +disconcerted this fine gentleman, but now the tables were turned, and on +board the yacht he often disconcerted her--not of _malice prepense_, but +for want of due consideration. No doubt she was a little unformed, +ignorant girl, but her intuitive perceptions were quick, and she knew +when she was depreciated and misunderstood. On a certain afternoon he +read her some beautiful poetry under the awning, and was interested to +know whether she had any taste for poetry. Bessie confessed that at +school she had read only Racine, and felt shy of saying what she used to +read at home, and he dropped the conversation. He drew the conclusion +that she did not care for literature. At their first meeting it had +seemed as if they might become cordial friends, but she soon grew +diffident of this much-employed stranger, who always had the ill-luck to +discover to her some deficiency in her education. The effect was that by +the time the yacht anchored off Ryde, she had lost her ease in his +society, and had become as shy as he was capricious, for she thought him +a most capricious and uncertain person in temper and demeanor. + +Yet it was not caprice that influenced his behavior. He was quite +unconscious of the variableness that taxed her how to meet it. He +approved of Bessie: he admired her--face, figure, air, voice, manner. He +judged that she would probably mature into a quiet and loving woman of +no very pronounced character, and there was a direct purpose in his mind +to cultivate her affection and to make her his wife. He thought her a +nice girl, sweet and sensible, but she did not enchant him. Perhaps he +was under other magic--under other magic, but not spell-bound beyond his +strength to break the charm. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was a man of genius and of soaring +ambition--well-born, well-nurtured, but as the younger son of a younger +son absolutely without patrimony. At his school and his university he +had won his way through a course of honors, and he would disappoint all +who knew him if he did not revive the traditions of his name and go onto +achieve place, power, and fame. To enter Parliament was necessary for +success in the career he desired to run, and the first step towards +Parliament for a poor young man was a prudent marriage into a family of +long standing, wide connection, and large influence in their county--so +competent authorities assured him--and all these qualifications had the +Fairfaxes of Kirkham, with a young heiress sufficiently eligible, +besides, to dispose of. The heads on each side had spoken again, and in +almost royal fashion had laid the lines for an alliance between their +houses. When Mr. Cecil Burleigh took Caen in his road to Paris, it was +with the distinct understanding that if Elizabeth Fairfax pleased him +and he succeeded in pleasing her, a marriage between them would crown +the hopes of both their families. + +The gentleman had not taken long to decide that the lady would do. And +now they were on the Foam together he had opportunities enough of +wooing. He availed himself of a courtly grace of manner, with sometimes +an air of worship, which would have been tenderness had he felt like a +lover. Bessie was puzzled, and grew more and more ill at ease with him. +Absorbed in work, in thought, or in idle reverie and smoke, he appeared +natural and happy; he turned his attention to her, and was gay, +gracious, flattering, but all with an effort. She wished he would not +give himself the trouble. She hated to be made to blush and stammer in +her talk; it confused her to have him look superbly in her eyes; it made +her angry to have him press her hand as if he would reassure her against +a doubt. + +Fortunately, the time was not long, for they began to bore one another +immensely. It was an exquisite morning when they anchored opposite Ryde, +and the first day of the annual regatta. At breakfast Mr. Cecil Burleigh +quietly announced that he would now leave the yacht, and make his way +home in a few days by the ordinary conveyances. Mr. Frederick Fairfax, +who was a consenting party to the family arrangement, suggested that +Bessie might like to go on shore to see the town and the charming +prospect from the pier and the strand. Mr. Cecil Burleigh did not second +the suggestion promptly enough to avoid the suspicion that he would +prefer to go alone; and Bessie, who had a most sensitive reluctance to +be where she was not wanted, made haste to say that she did not care to +land--she was quite satisfied to see the town from the water. Thereupon +the gentleman pressed the matter with so much insistance that, though +she would much rather have foregone the pleasure than enjoy it under his +escort, she found no polite words decisive enough for a refusal. + +A white sateen dress embroidered in black and red, and a flapping +leghorn hat tied down gypsy style with a crimson ribbon, was a +picturesque costume, but not orthodox as a yachting costume at Ryde. +Bessie had a provincial French air in spite of her English face, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh perhaps regretted that she was not more suitably equipped +for making her _debut_ in his company. He had a prejudice against +peculiarity in dress, and knew that it was a terrible thing to be out of +the fashion and to run the gauntlet of bold eyes on Ryde pier. At the +seaside the world is idle, and has nothing to do but stare and +speculate. Bessie had beauty enough to be stared at for that alone, but +it was not her beauty that attracted most remark; it was her cavalier +and the singularity of her attire. Poor child! with her own industrious +fingers had she lavishly embroidered that heathen embroidery. The +gentlemen were not critically severe; the ladies looked at her, and +looked again for her escort's sake, and wondered how this prodigiously +fine gentleman came to have foregathered with so outlandish a blushing +girl; for Bessie, when she perceived herself an object of curious +observation, blushed furiously under the unmitigated fire of their gaze. +And most heartily did she wish herself back again on board the Foam. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had friends and acquaintances everywhere, and some +very dear friends at this moment at Ryde. That was why he ended his +yachting there. As he advanced with Bessie up the pier every minute +there was an arrest, a brisk inquiry, and a reply. At last a halt that +might have been a _rendezvous_ occurred, finding of seats ensued, with +general introductions, and then a settling down on pretence of watching +the yachts through a glass. It was a very pretty spectacle, and Bessie +was left at liberty to enjoy it, and also to take note of the many gay +and fashionable folk who enrich and embellish Ryde in the season; for +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was entirely engrossed with another person. The +party they had joined consisted of a very thin old gentleman, spruce, +well brushed, and well cared for; of a languid, pale lady, some thirty +years younger, who was his wife; and of two girls, their daughters. It +was one of these daughters who absorbed all Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +attention, and Bessie recognized her at once as that most beautiful +young lady to whom he had been devoted at the Fairfield wedding. His +meeting with her had quite transfigured him. He looked infinitely glad, +an expression that was reflected on her countenance in a lovely light of +joy. It was not necessary to be a witch to discern that there was an +understanding between these two--that they loved one another. Bessie saw +it and felt sympathetic, and was provoked at the recollection of her +foolish conceit in being perplexed by the gentleman's elaborate +courtesies to herself. + +The other sister talked to her. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner sat in silent +pensiveness, according to their wont, contemplating the boats on the +water. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Julia (he called her Julia) conversed +together in low but earnest tones. It seemed that they had much to +communicate. Presently they crossed the pier, and stood for ever so long +leaning over the railing. Bessie was not inquisitive, but she could take +a lively, unselfish interest in many matters that did not concern her. +When they turned round again she was somehow not surprised to see that +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had a constrained air, and that the shell-pink face +of the young lady was pale and distorted with emotion. Their joy and +gladness had been but evanescent. She came hastily to her mother and +said they would now go home to luncheon. On the way she and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh followed behind the rest, but they did not speak much, or spoke +only of common things. + +The Gardiners had a small house in a street turning up from the Strand, +a confined little house of the ordinary lodging-house sort, with a +handsbreadth of gravel and shrubs in front, and from the sitting-room +window up stairs a side-glance at the sea. From a few words that Mr. +Gardiner dropped, Bessie learned that it was theirs for twelve months, +until the following June; that it was very dear, but the cheapest place +they could get in Ryde fit to put their heads into; also that Ryde was +chosen as their home for a year because it was cheerful for "poor papa." + +Here was a family of indigent gentility, servile waiters upon the +accidents of Fortune, unable to work, but not ashamed to beg, as their +friends and kindred to the fourth degree could have plaintively +testified. It was a mystery to common folks how they lived and got +along. They were most agreeable and accomplished people, who knew +everybody and went everywhere. The daughters had taste and beauty. They +visited by turns at great houses, never both leaving their parents at +the same time; they wore pretty, even elegant clothing, and were always +ready to assist at amateur concerts, private theatricals, church +festivals, and other cheerful celebrations. Miss Julia Gardiner's voice +was an acquisition at an evening party; her elder sister's brilliant +touch on the piano was worth an invitation to the most select +entertainment. And besides this, there are rich, kind people about in +the world who are always glad to give poor girls, who are also nice, a +little amusement. And the Miss Gardiners were popular; they were very +sweet-tempered, lady-like, useful, and charming. + +Bessie Fairfax was an admirer of beauty in her own sex, and she could +scarcely take her eyes from the winsome fair face of Julia. It was a +very fair face, very lovely. After luncheon, at Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +request, she sang a new song that was lying on the piano; and they +talked of old songs which he professed to like better, which she said +she had forgotten. Mr. Gardiner had not come up stairs, and Mrs. +Gardiner, who had, soon disappeared. It was a narrow little room made +graceful with a few plants and ornaments and the working tools of +ladies; novels from the library were on the table and on the couch. A +word spoken there could not be spoken in secret. By and by, Helen, the +elder sister, proposed to take Bessie to the arcade. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +demurred, but acceded when it was added that "mamma" would go with them. +Mamma went, a weary, willing sacrifice; and in the arcade and in +somebody's pretty verandah they spent the hot afternoon until six +o'clock. When they returned to the house, Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Julia +were still together, and the new song on the desk of the piano had not +been moved to make room for any other. The gentleman appeared annoyed, +the lady weary and dejected. Bessie had no doubt that they were lovers +who had roughnesses in the course of their true love, and she +sentimentally wished them good-speed over all obstacles. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh rose as they entered, and said he would walk down the +pier with Miss Fairfax to restore her to the yacht, and Mr. Gardiner +bade Julia put on her hat and walk with them--it would refresh her after +staying all the hot afternoon in-doors. + +The pier was deserted now. The gay crowd had disappeared, the regatta +was over for the day, and the band silent. The glare of sunshine had +softened to a delicate amber glow, and the water was smooth, translucent +as a lake. The three walked at a pace, but were overtaken and passed by +two ladies in dark blue-braided serge dresses that cleared the ground as +they walked and fitted close to very well made figures. Their hats were +black-glazed and low-crowned, with a narrow blue ribbon lettered "Ariel" +in white and gold. + +"Look at those ladies," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh, suddenly breaking off +his talk with Julia to speak to Bessie; "that is the proper yachting +costume. You must have one before you come to Ryde in the Foam again." + +Bessie blushed; perhaps he had been ashamed of her. This was a most +afflicting, humiliating notion. She was delighted to see the boat from +the yacht waiting to take her off. She had imagined her own dress both +pretty and becoming--she knew that it had cost her months of patient +embroidering. Poor Bessie! she had much to learn yet of the fitness of +things, and of things in their right places. Miss Gardiner treated her +as very young, and only spoke to her of her school, from which she was +newly but fully and for ever emancipated. Incidentally, Bessie learned a +bit of news concerning one of her early comrades there. "Ada Hiloe was +at Madame Fournier's at Caen. Was it in your time? Did you know her?" +she was asked, and when she said that she did, Mr. Cecil Burleigh added +for information that the young lady was going to be married; so he had +heard in Paris from Mr. Chiverton. Julia instantly cried out, "Indeed! +to whom?" + +"To Mr. Chiverton himself." + +"That horrid old man! Oh, can it be true?" + +"He is very rich," was the quiet rejoinder, and both lapsed into +silence, until they had parted with their young companion. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh carefully enveloped Bessie in a cloak, Miss Gardiner +watching them. Then he bade her good-bye, with a reference to the +probability of his seeing her again soon at Abbotsmead. It was a +gracious good-bye, and effaced her slight discomfiture about her dress. +It even left her under the agreeable impression that he liked her in a +friendly way, his abrupt dicta on costume notwithstanding. A certain +amount of approbation from without was essential to Bessie's inner +peace. As the boat rowed off she waved her hand with rosy benignity to +the two looking after her departure. Mr. Cecil Burleigh raised his hat, +and they moved away. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_A LITTLE CHAPTER BY THE WAY._ + + +It must not be dissimulated what very dear friends Mr. Cecil Burleigh +and Miss Julia Gardiner were. They had known and loved one another for +six years as neither was ever likely to love again. They had been long +of convincing that a marriage was impossible between two such poor young +people--the one ambitious, the other fond of pleasure. They suited to a +nicety in character, in tastes, but they were agreed, at last, that +there must be an end to their philandering. No engagement had ever been +acknowledged. The young lady's parents had been indulgent to their +constant affection so long as there was hope, and it was a fact +generally recognized by Miss Julia Gardiner's friends that she cared +very much for Mr. Cecil Burleigh, because she had refused two eligible +offers--splendid offers for a girl in her position. A third was now open +to her, and without being urgent or unkind her mother sincerely wished +that she would accept it. Since the morning she had made up her mind to +do so. + +If the circumstances of these two had been what Elizabeth Fairfax +supposed, they would have spent some blessed hours together before dusk. +They stayed on the pier, and they talked, not of their love--they had +said all their say of love--but of Mr. Cecil Burleigh's flattering +prospects. When he stated that his expectations of getting a seat in the +House of Commons were based on the good-will of the Fairfax family and +connections, Julia was silent for several minutes. Then she remarked in +a gentle voice that Miss Fairfax was a handsome girl. Mr. Cecil Burleigh +acquiesced, and added that she was also amiable and intelligent. + +After that they walked home--to the dull little house in the by street, +that is. Mr. Cecil Burleigh refused to go in; and when the door closed +on Julia's "Good-bye, Cecil, goodbye, dear," he walked swiftly away to +his hotel, with the sensations of a man who is honestly miserable, and +also who has not dined. + +Julia sat by the open window until very late in the hot night, and Helen +with her, comforting her. + +"No, the years have not been thrown away! If I live to grow old I shall +still count them the best years of my life," said she with a pathetic +resignation. "I may have been sometimes out of spirits, but much oftener +I have been happy; what other joy have I ever had than Cecil's love? I +was eighteen when we met at that ball--you remember, Nell! Dear Cecil! I +adored him from the first kind word he gave me, and what a thrill I felt +to-day when I saw him coming!" + +"And he is to come no more?" inquired Helen softly. + +"No more as of old. Of course we shall see one another as people do who +live in the same world: I am not going into a nunnery. Cecil will be a +great man some day, and I shall recollect with pride that for six years +he loved only _me_. He did not mention Mr. Brotherton: I think he has +heard, but if not, he will hear soon enough from other people. If we +were not so awfully poor, Nell, or if poverty were not so dreadful to +mamma, I _never_ would marry--_never_ while Cecil is a bachelor." + +This was how Julia Gardiner announced that she meant to succumb to the +pressure of circumstances. Helen kissed her thankfully. She had been +very anxious for this consummation. It would be a substantial, permanent +benefit to them all if Julia married Mr. Brotherton. He had said that it +should be so, and he was a gentleman of good estate, and as generous as +he was wealthy, though very middle-aged, a widower with six children, +and as a lover not interesting perhaps. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh also sat at an open window, but he was not provided +with a confessor, only with a cigar. He had dined, and did not feel so +intensely miserable as he felt an hour ago. "Dear little Julia!" He +thought of her with caressing tenderness, her pretty looks, her graceful +ways, her sweet affection. "There were tears in her dove's eyes when she +said 'Good-bye, Cecil, good-bye, dear!'" No other woman would ever have +his heart. + +They had both good sense, and did not rail at evil fortune. It had done +neither any mischief to be absorbed in love of the other through the +most passionate years of their lives. Mrs. Gardiner had remonstrated +often and kindly against their folly, but had put no decisive _veto_ on +it, in the hope that they would grow out it. And, in a manner, they had +grown out of it. Six years ago, if they had been allowed, they would +have married without counting the cost; but those six years had brought +them experience of the world, of themselves, and of each other, and they +feared the venture. If Mr. Cecil Burleigh had been without ambition, his +secretaryship would have maintained them a modest home; but neither had +he a mind for the exclusive retired pleasures of the domestic hearth, +nor she the wish to forego the delights of society. There was no romance +in poverty for Julia Gardiner. It was too familiar; it signified to her +shifts, privations, expediencies, rude humiliations, and rebuffs. And +that was not the life for Mr. Cecil Burleigh. Their best friends said +so, and they acquiesced. From this it followed that the time was come +for them to part. Julia was twenty-four. The present opportunity of +settling herself by a desirable marriage lost, she might never have +another--might wear away youth, beauty, expectation, until no residuum +were left her but bitterness and regret. She would have risked it at a +word from Cecil, but that word was not spoken. He reasoned with himself +that he had no right to speak it. He was not prepared to give all for +love, though he keenly regretted what he resigned. He realized frankly +that he lost in losing Julia a true, warm sympathizer in his +aspirations, and a loving peace in his heart that had been a God's +blessing to him. Oh, if there had been only a little more money between +them! + +He reflected on many things, but on this most, and as he reflected there +came a doubt upon him whether it was well done to sever himself from the +dear repose he had enjoyed in loving her--whether there might not be a +more far-sighted prudence in marrying her than in letting her go. Men +have to ask their wives whether life shall be a success with them or +not. And Julia had been so much to him, so encouraging, such a treasure +of kindness! Whatever else he might win, without her he would always +miss something. His letters to her of six years were a complete history +of their course. Was it probable that he would ever be able to write so +to the rosy-cheeked little girl on board the Foam? Julia was equal with +him, a cultivated woman and a perfect companion. + +But what profit was there in going back upon it? They had determined +that it must not be. In a few days he was expected at Abbotsmead: +Norminster wanted to hear from him. A general election impended, and he +had been requested to offer himself as a candidate in the Conservative +interest for that ancient city. Mr. Fairfax was already busy in his +behalf, and Mr. John Short, the Conservative lawyer, was extremely +impatient for his appearance upon the stage of action. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +_A LOST OPPORTUNITY._ + + +Ryde looked beautiful the next morning from the deck of the Foam. The +mainland looked beautiful too, and Bessie, gazing that way, thought how +near she was to the Forest, until an irresistible longing to be there +overcame her reserve. She asked her uncle if the Foam was going to lie +long off Ryde. Why did she inquire? Because she should like to go to +Hampton by the boat, and to Beechhurst to see her friends, if only for +one single night. Before her humble petition was well past her lips the +tears were in her eyes, for she saw that it was not going to be granted. +Mr. Frederick Fairfax never risked being put out of his way, or made to +wait the convenience of others on his yachting cruises. He simply told +Bessie that she could not go, and added no reason why. But almost +immediately after he sent her on shore with Mrs. Betts to Morgan's to +buy a proper glazed hat and to be measured for a serge dress: that was +his way of diverting and consoling her. + +Bessie was glad enough to be diverted from the contemplation of her +disappointment. It was a very great pain indeed to be so near, and yet +so cut off from all she loved. The morning was fresh on the pier, and +many people were out inhaling the delicious salt breezes. A clergyman, +wielding a slim umbrella and carrying a black bag and an overcoat, came +lurching along. Bessie recognized Mr. Askew Wiley, and was so overjoyed +to see anybody who came from home that she rushed up to him: "Oh, Mr. +Wiley! how do you do? Are you going back to Beechhurst?" she cried +breathless. + +"Bessie Fairfax, surely? How you are grown!" said he, and shook hands. +"Yes, Bessie, I am on my way now to catch the boat. If you want to hear +about your people, you must turn back with me, for I have not a minute +to spare." + +Bessie turned back: "Will you please tell them I am on board the Foam, +my uncle Frederick's yacht? I cannot get away to see them, and I don't +know how long we shall stay here, but if they could come over to see +me!" she urged wistfully. + +"It sounds like tempting them to a wild-goose chase, Bessie. Yachts that +are here to-day are gone to-morrow. By the time they arrive you may have +sailed off to Cowes or to Yarmouth. But I will give your message. How +came you on board a yacht?" + +Bessie got no more information from the rector; he had the same +catechising habit as his good wife, and wanted to know her news. She +gave it freely, and then they were at the end of the pier, and there was +the Hampton boat ringing its bell to start. "Are you going straight +home? Will you tell them at once?" Bessie ventured to say again as Mr. +Wiley went down the gangway. + +"Yes. I expect to find the carriage waiting for me at Hampton," was the +response. + +"They might even come by the afternoon boat," cried Bessie as a last +word, and the rector said, "Yes." + +It was with a lightened heart and spirits exhilarated that Bessie +retraced her steps up the pier. "It was such a good opportunity!" said +she, congratulating herself. + +"Yes, if the gentleman don't forget," rejoined Mrs. Betts. + +But, alas! that was just what the gentleman did. He forgot until his +remembering was too late to be of any purpose. He forgot until the next +Sunday when he was in the reading-desk, and saw Mrs. Carnegie sitting in +front of him with a restless boy on either hand. He felt a momentary +compunction, but that also, as well as the cause of it, went out of his +head with the end of his sermon, and the conclusion of the matter was +that he never delivered the message Bessie had given him on Ryde pier at +all. + +Bessie, however, having a little confidence in him, unwittingly enjoyed +the pleasures of hope all that day and the next. On the second evening +she was a trifle downhearted. The morning after she awoke with another +prospect before her eyes--a beautiful bay, with houses fringing its +shores and standing out on its cliffs, and verdure to the water's edge. +Mrs. Betts told her these villages were Sandown and Shanklyn. The yacht +was scudding along at a famous rate. They passed Luccombe with its few +cottages nestling at the foot of the chine, then Bonchurch and Ventnor. +"It would be very pleasant living at sea in fine weather, if only one +had what one wants," Bessie said. + +The following day the yacht was off Ryde again, and Bessie went to walk +on the pier in her close-fitting serge costume and glazed hat, feeling +very barefaced and evident, she assured Mrs. Betts, who tried to +convince her that the style of dress was exceedingly becoming to her, +and made her appear taller. Bessie was, indeed, a very pretty middle +height now, and her shining hair, clear-cut features, and complexion of +brilliant health constituted her a very handsome girl. + +Almost the first people she met were the Gardiners. "Mr. Cecil Burleigh +went to London this morning," Miss Julia told her. The elder sister +asked if she was coming to the flower-show in Appley Gardens in the +afternoon or the regatta ball that night. + +Bessie said, "No, oh, no! she had never been to a ball in her life." + +"But you might go with us to the flower-show," said Julia. She thought +it would please Mr. Cecil Burleigh if a little attention were shown to +Miss Fairfax. + +Bessie did not know what to answer: she looked at her strange clothing, +and said suddenly, No, she thanked them, but she could not go. They +quite understood. + +Just at that moment came bearing down upon them Miss Buff, fat, loud, +jolly as ever. "It _is_ Bessie Fairfax! I was sure it was," cried she; +and Bessie rushed straight into her open arms with responsive joy. + +When she came to herself the Gardiners were gone. "Never mind, you are +sure to meet them again; they are always about Ryde somewhere," Miss +Buff said. "How delightful it is to see you, Bessie! And quite yourself! +Not a bit altered--only taller!" And then they found a sheltered seat, +and Bessie, still quivering with her happy surprise, began to ask +questions. + +"We have come from Beechhurst this morning, my niece Louy and myself," +was Miss Buff's answer to the first. "We started at six, to be in time +for the eight o'clock boat: the flower-show and the regatta ball have +brought us. I hope you are going to both? No? What a pity! I never miss +a ball for Louy if I can help it." + +Bessie briefly explained herself and her circumstances, and asked when +her friend had last seen any of Mr. Carnegie's family. + +"I saw Mrs. Carnegie yesterday to inquire if I could do anything for her +at Hampton. She looked very well." + +"And did she say nothing of me?" cried Bessie in consternation. + +"Not a word. She mentioned some time ago how sorry they all were not to +have you at home for a little while before you are carried away to +Woldshire." + +"Then Mr. Wiley has never given them my message! Oh, how unkind!" Bessie +was fit to cry for vexation and self-reproach, for why had she not +written? Why had she trusted anybody when there was a post? + +"You might as well pour water into a sieve, and expect it to stay there, +as expect Mr. Wiley to remember anything that does not concern himself," +said Miss Buff. "But it is not too late yet, perhaps? When do you leave +Ryde?" + +"It is all uncertain: it is just as the wind blows and as my uncle +fancies," replied Bessie despondently. + +"Then write--write at once, and telegraph. Do both. There is Smith's +bookstall. They will let you have a sheet of paper, and I always carry +stamps." Miss Buff was prompt in action. Six lines were written for the +post and one line for the telegraph, and both were despatched in ten +minutes or less. "Now all is done that can be done to remedy yesterday +and ensure to-morrow: some of them are certain to appear in the morning. +Make your mind easy. Come back to our seat and tell me all about +yourself." + +Bessie's cheerfulness revived under the brisk influence of her friend, +and she was ready to give an epitome of her annals, or a forecast of her +hopes, or (which she much preferred) to hear the chronicles of +Beechhurst. Miss Buff was the best authority for the village politics +that she could have fallen in with. She knew everything that went on in +the parish--not quite accurately perhaps, but accurately enough for +purposes of popular information and gossip. + +"Well, my dear, Miss Thusy O'Flynn is gone, for one good thing," she +began with a _verve_ that promised thoroughness. "And we are to have a +new organ in the church, for another: it has been long enough talked +about. Old Phipps set his face dead against it until we got the money in +hand; we have got it, but not until we are all at daggers drawn. He told +Lady Latimer that we ought to keep our liberal imaginations in check by +a system of cash payments." + +"Our friend has a disagreeable trick of being right," said Bessie +laughing. + +"He has his uses, but I cannot bear him. I don't know who is to +blame--whether it is Miss Wort or Lady Latimer--but there is no peace at +Beechhurst now for begging. They have plenty of money, and little enough +to do with it. I call _giving_ the greatest of luxuries, but, bless you! +giving is not all charity. Miss Wort spends a fortune in eleemosynary +physic to half poison poor folks; Lady Latimer indulges herself in a +variety of freaks: her last was a mechanical leg for old Bumpus, who had +been happy on a wooden peg for forty years; we were all asked to +subscribe, and he doesn't thank us for it. As soon as one thing is done +with, up starts another that we are entreated to be interested +in--things we don't care about one bit. Old Phipps protests that it is +vanity and busy-bodyism. I hope I shall never grow so hard-hearted as to +see a poor soul want and not help her, but I hate to be canvassed for +alms on behalf of other people's benevolent objects--don't you?" + +"It has never happened to me. I remember that my father used to appeal +to Lady Latimer and Miss Wort when his poor patients had not fit diet. +Lady Latimer was his chief Lady Bountiful." + +"That may be true, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing. +I love fair play. The schools, now--they were very good schools before +ever she came into the Forest; yes, as far back as your father's time, +Bessie Fairfax--and yet, to hear the way in which she is belauded by a +certain set, one might suppose that she had been the making of them. But +it is the same all the world over--a hundred hands do the work, and one +name gets all the praise!" Miss Buff was growing warm over her +reminiscences, but catching the spark of mischief in Bessie's eyes, she +laughed, and added with great candor: "Yes, I confess there is a spice +of rivalry between us, but I am very fond of her all the same." + +"Oh yes. She loves to rule, but then she has the talent," pleaded +Bessie. + +"No, my dear, there you are mistaken. She is too fussy; she irritates +people. But for the old admiral she would often get into difficulties. +Beechhurst has taken to ladies' meetings and committees, and all sorts +of fudge that she is the moving spirit of. I often wish we were back in +the quiet, times when dear old Hutton was rector, and would not let her +be always interfering. I suppose it comes of this new doctrine of the +equality of the sexes; but I say they never will be equal till women +consent to be frights. It gives a man an immense pull over us to clap on +his hat without mounting up stairs to the looking-glass: while we are +getting ready to go and do a thing, he has gone and done it. You hear +Lady Latimer's name at every turn, but the old admiral is the backbone +of Beechhurst, as he always was, and old Phipps is his right hand." + +"And Mr. Musgrave and my father?" queried Bessie. + +"They do their part, but it is so unobtrusively that one forgets them; +but they would be missed if they were not there. Mr. Musgrave has a +great deal of influence amongst his own class--the farmers and those +people. Of course, you have heard how wonderfully his son is getting on +at college? Oh, my dear, what a stir there was about his running over to +Normandy after you!" + +"Dear Harry! I saw him again quite lately. He came to see me at Bayeux," +said Bessie with a happy sigh. + +"Did he? we never heard of that. He is at home now: perhaps he will come +over with them to-morrow, eh?" + +"I wish he would," was Bessie's frank rejoinder. + +"And who else is there that you used to like? Fanny Mitten has married a +clerk in the Hampton Bank, and Miss Ely is married; but she was married +in London. I was in great hopes once that old Phipps would take Miss +Thusy O'Flynn, and a sweet pair they would have been; but he thought +better of it, and she went away as she came. Her aunt was a good old +soul, and what did it matter if she was vulgar? We were very sorry to +lose her contralto in the choir." Miss Buff's gossip was almost run out. +Bessie remembered little Christie to inquire for him. "Little +Christie--who is he? I never heard of him. Oh, the wheelwright's son who +went away to be an artist! I don't know. The old man made me a +garden-barrow once, and charged me enormously; and when I told him it +was too dear, he said it would last me my life. Such impertinence! The +common people grow very independent." + +Bessie had heard the anecdote of the garden-barrow before. It spoke +volumes for the peace and simplicity of Miss Buff's life that she still +recollected and cited this ancient grievance. A few more words of the +doctor and his household, a few doubts and fears on Bessie's part that +her telegram might be delayed, and a few cheery predictions on Miss +Buff's, and they said good-bye, with the expression of a cordial hope +that they might meet soon again, and meet in the Forest. Bessie Fairfax +was amused and exhilarated by this familiar tattle about her beloved +Beechhurst. It had dissipated the shadows of her three years' absence, +and made home present to her once more. Nothing seems trivial that +concerns places and people dear to young affections, and all the keener +became her desire to be amongst them. She consulted Smith's boy as to +the probable time of the arrival of her telegram at the doctor's house; +she studied the table of the steamboats. She regretted bitterly that she +had not written the first day at Ryde; then pleaded her own excuse +because letters were a rarity for her to write, and had hitherto +required a formal permission. + +Mrs. Betts lingered with her long and patiently upon the pier, but the +Gardiners did not come down again, and by and by Mrs. Betts, feeling the +approach of dinner-time, began to look out towards the yacht. After a +minute's steady observation she said, half to herself, but seriously, "I +do believe they are making ready to sail. There is a boat alongside with +bread and things." + +"To sail! To leave Ryde! Oh, don't you think my uncle would wait a day +if I begged him?" cried Bessie in acute dismay. + +"No, miss--not if he has given orders and the wind keeps fair. If I was +in your place, miss, I should not ask him. And as for the telegram, I +should not name it. It would put Mr. Frederick out, and do no good." + +Bessie did not name it. Mrs. Betts's speculation proved correct. The +yacht sailed away in the afternoon. About the time when Mrs. Carnegie +was hurriedly dressing to drive with her husband to Hampton over-night, +to ensure not missing the mail-boat to Ryde in the morning, that gay and +pleasant town was fast receding from Bessie's view. At dawn the island +was out of sight, and when Mr. Carnegie, landing on the pier, sought a +boat to carry him and his wife to the Foam, a boatman looked up at him +and said, "The Foam, sir? You'll have much ado to overtake her. She's +halfway to Hastings by this time. She sailed yesterday soon after five +o'clock." + +Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie turned away in silence. They had nothing to do but +sorrowfully to repair home again. They were more grieved at heart by +this disappointment than by any that had preceded it; and all the more +did they try to cheer one another. + +"Don't fret, Jane: it hurts me to see you fret," said the doctor. "It +was a nice thought in Bessie, but the chance was a poor one." + +"We have lost her, Thomas; I fear we have lost her," said his wife. "It +is unnatural to pass by our very door, so to speak, and not let us see +her. But I don't blame her." + +"No, no, Bessie is not to blame: Harry Musgrave can tell us better than +that. It is Mr. Fairfax--his orders. He forbade her coming, or it might +have been managed easily. It is a mistake. He will never win her heart +so; and as for ruling her except through her affections, he will have a +task. I'm sorry, for the child will not be happy." + +When Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie arrived at home they found Bessie's letter +that had come by post--an abrupt, warm little letter that comforted them +for themselves, but troubled them for her exceedingly. "God bless her, +dear child!" said her mother. "I am afraid she will cry sadly, Thomas, +and nobody to say a loving word to her or give her a kiss." + +"It is a pity; she will have her share of vexations. But she is young +and can bear them, with all her life before her. We will answer that +pretty letter, that she may have something to encourage her when she +gets amongst her grand relations. I suppose it may be a week or ten days +first. We have done what we could, Jane, so cheer up, and let it rest." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +_BESSIE'S BRINGING HOME._ + + +When Bessie Fairfax realized that the yacht was sailing away from Ryde +not to return, and carrying her quite out of reach of pursuit, her +spirits sank to zero. It was a perfect evening, and the light on the +water was lovely, but to her it was a most melancholy view--when she +could see it for the mist that obscured her vision. All her heart +desired was being left farther and farther behind, and attraction there +was none in Woldshire to which she was going. She looked at her uncle +Frederick, silent, absent, sad; she remembered her grandfather, cold, +sarcastic, severe; and every ensuing day she experienced fits of +dejection or fits of terror and repulsion, to which even the most +healthy young creatures are liable when they find themselves cut adrift +from what is dear and familiar. Happily, these fits were intermittent, +and at their worst easily diverted by what interested her on the voyage; +and she did not encourage the murky humor: she always tried to shake it +off and feel brave, and especially she made the effort as the yacht drew +towards its haven. It was her nature to struggle against gloom and pain +for a clear outlook at her horizon, and Madame Fournier had not failed +to supply her with moral precepts for sustenance when cast on the shore +of a strange and indifferent society. + +The Foam touched at Hastings, at Dover, at semi-Dutch Harwich, and then +no more until it put into Scarcliffe Bay. Here Bessie's sea-adventures +ended. She went ashore and walked with her uncle on the bridge, gazing +about with frank, unsophisticated eyes. The scenery and the weather were +beautiful. Mr. Frederick Fairfax had many friends now at Scarcliffe, the +favorite sea-resort of the county people. Greetings met him on every +hand, and Bessie was taken note of. "My niece Elizabeth." Her history +was known, kindness had been bespoken for her, her prospects were +anticipated by a prescient few. + +At length one acquaintance gave her uncle news: "The squire and your +brother are both in the town. I fell in with them at the bank less than +an hour ago." + +"That is good luck: then we will go into the town and find them." And he +moved off with alacrity, as if in sight of the end of an irksome duty. +Bessie inquired if her uncle was going forward to Abbotsmead, to which +he replied that he was not; he was going across to Norway to make the +most of the fine weather while it lasted. He might be at horns in the +winter, but his movements were always uncertain. + +Mr. Fairfax came upon them suddenly out of the library. "Eh! here you +are! We heard that the Foam was in," said he, and shook hands with his +eldest son as if he had been parted with only yesterday. Then he spoke a +few words to Bessie, rather abruptly, but with a critical observance of +her: she had outgrown his recollection, and was more of a woman than he +had anticipated. He walked on without any attempt at conversation until +they met a third, a tall man with a fair beard, whom her grandfather +named as "Your uncle Laurence, Elizabeth." And she had seen all her +Woldshire kinsmen. For a miracle, she was able to put as cool a face +upon her reception as the others did. A warm welcome would have brought +her to tears and smiles, but its quiet formality subdued emotion and set +her features like a handsome mask. She was too composed. Pride tinged +with resentment simulates dignified composure very well for a little +while, but only for a little while when there is a heart behind. + +They went walking hither and thither about the steep, windy streets. +Bessie fell behind. Now and then there was an encounter with other +gentlemen, brief, energetic speech, inquiry and answer, sally and +rejoinder, all with one common subject of interest--the Norminster +election. Scarcliffe is a fine town, and there was much gay company +abroad that afternoon, but Bessie was too miserable to be amused. Her +uncle Laurence was the one of the party who was so fortunate as to +discover this. He turned round on a sudden recollection of his stranger +niece, and surprised a most desolate look on her rosy face. Bessie +confessed her feelings by the grateful humility of her reply to his +considerate proposal that they should turn in at a confectioner's they +were passing and have a cup of tea. + +"My father is as full of this election as if he were going to contest +the city of Norminster himself," said he. "I hope you have a blue +bonnet? You will have to play your part. Beautiful ladies are of great +service in these affairs." + +Bessie had not a blue bonnet; her bonnet was white chip and pink +may--the enemy's colors. She must put it by till the end of the war. Tea +and thick bread and butter were supplied to the hungry couple, and +about four o'clock Mr. Fairfax called for them and hurried them off to +the train. Mr. Laurence went on to Norminster, dropping the squire and +Elizabeth at Mitford Junction. Thence they had a drive of four miles +through a country of long-backed, rounded hills, ripening cornfields, +and meadows green with the rich aftermath, and full of cattle. The sky +above was high and clear, the air had a crispness that was exhilarating. +The sun set in scarlet splendor, and the reflection of its glory was +shed over the low levels of lawn, garden, and copse, which, lying on +either side of a shallow, devious river, kept still the name of +Abbotsmead that had belonged to them before the great monastery at +Kirkham was dissolved. + +Mr. Fairfax was in good-humor now, and recovered from his momentary loss +of self-possession at the sight of his granddaughter so thoroughly grown +up. Also, election business at Norminster was going as he would have it, +and bowling smoothly along in the quiet, early evening he had time to +think of Elizabeth, sitting bolt upright in the carriage beside him. She +had a pretty, pensive air, for which he saw no cause--only the +excitement of novelty staved off depression--and in his sarcastic vein, +with doubtful compliment, he said, "I did not expect to see you grown so +tall, Elizabeth. You look as healthy as a milkmaid." + +She was very quick and sensitive of feeling. She understood him +perfectly, and replied that she _was_ as healthy as a milkmaid. Then she +reverted to her wistful contemplation of the landscape, and tried to +think of that and not of herself, which was too pathetic. + +This country was not so lovely as the Forest. It had only the beauty of +high culture. Human habitations were too wide-scattered, and the +trees--there were no very great trees, nor any blue glimpses of the sea. +Nevertheless, when the carriage turned into the domain at a pretty +rustic lodge, the overarching gloom of an avenue of limes won Bessie's +admiration, and a few fir trees standing in single grace near the ruins +of the abbey, which they had to pass on their way to the house, she +found almost worthy to be compared with the centenarians of the Forest. +The western sun was still upon the house itself. The dusk-tiled mansard +roof, pierced by two rows of twinkling dormers, and crowned by solid +chimney-stacks, bulked vast and shapely against the primrose sky, and +the stone-shafted lower windows caught many a fiery reflection in their +blackness. Through a porch broad and deep, and furnished with oaken +seats, Bessie preceded her grandfather into a lofty and spacious hall, +where the foot rang on the bare, polished boards, and ten generations of +Fairfaxes, successive dwellers in the grand old house, looked down from +the walls. It was not lighted except by the sunset, which filled it with +a warm and solemn glow. + +Numerous servants appeared, amongst them a plump functionary in blue +satinette and a towering cap, who curtseyed to Elizabeth and spoke some +words of real welcome: "I'm right glad to see you back, Miss Fairfax; +these arms were the first that held you." Bessie's impulse was to fall +on the neck of this kindly personage with kisses and tears, but her +grandfather's cool tone intervening maintained her reserve: + +"Your young mistress will be pleased to go to her room, Macky. Your +reminiscences will keep till to-morrow." + +Macky, instantly obedient, begged Miss Fairfax to "come this way," and +conducted her through a double-leaved door that stood open to the inner +hall, carpeted with crimson pile, like the wide shallow stairs that went +up to the gallery surrounding the greater hall. On this gallery opened +many doors of chambers long silent and deserted. + +"The master ordered you the white suite," announced Macky, ushering +Elizabeth into the room so called. "It has pretty prospects, and the +rooms are not such wildernesses as the other state-apartments. The +eldest unmarried lady of the family always occupied the white suite." + +A narrow ante-room, a sitting-room, a bed-room, and off it a +sleeping-closet for her maid,--this was the private lodging accorded to +the new daughter of the house. Bessie gazed about, taking in a general +impression of faded, delicate richness, of white and gold and sparse +color, in elegant, antiquated taste, like a boudoir in an old Norman +chateau that she had visited. + +"Mrs. Betts was so thoughtful as to come on by an earlier train to get +unpacked and warn us to be prepared," Macky observed in a respectful +explanatory tone; and then she went on to offer her good wishes to the +young lady she had nursed, in the manner of an old and trusted dependant +of the family. "It is fine weather and a fine time of year, and we hope +and pray all of us, Miss Fairfax, as this will be a blessed +bringing-home for you and our dear master. Most of us was here servants +when Mr. Geoffry, your father, went south. A cheerful, pleasant +gentleman he was, and your mamma as pleasant a lady. And here is Mrs. +Betts to wait on you." + +Bessie thanked the old woman, and would have bidden her remain and talk +on about her forgotten parents, but Macky with another curtsey retired, +and Mrs. Betts, calm and peremptory, proceeded to array her young lady +in her prize-day muslin dress, and sent her hastily down stairs under +the guidance of a little page who loitered in the gallery. At the foot +of the stairs a lean, gray-headed man in black received her, and ushered +her into a beautiful octagon-shaped room, all garnished with books and +brilliant with light, where her grandfather was waiting to conduct her +to dinner. So much ceremony made Bessie feel as if she was acting a part +in a play. Since Macky's kind greeting her spirits had risen, and her +countenance had cleared marvellously. + +Mr. Fairfax was standing opposite the door when she appeared. "Good God! +it is Dolly!" he exclaimed, visibly startled. Dolly was his sister +Dorothy, long since dead. Not only in face and figure, but in a certain +lightness of movement and a buoyant swift way of stepping towards him, +Elizabeth recalled her. Perhaps there was something in the simplicity of +her dress too: there on the wall was a pretty miniature of her +great-aunt in blue and white and golden flowing hair to witness the +resemblance. Mr. Fairfax pointed it out to his granddaughter, and then +they went to dinner. + +It was a very formal ceremonial, and rather tedious to the +newly-emancipated school-girl. Jonquil served his master when he was +alone, but this evening he was reinforced by a footman in blue and +silver, by way of honor to the young lady. Elizabeth faced her +grandfather across a round table. A bowl-shaped chandelier holding +twelve wax-lights hung from the groined ceiling above the rose-decked +_epergne_, making a bright oasis in the centre of a room gloomy rather +from the darkness of its fittings than from the insufficiency of +illumination. Under the soft lustre the plate, precious for its antique +beauty, the quaint cut glass, and old blue china enriched with gold were +displayed to perfection. Bessie had a taste, her eye was gratified, +there was repose in all this splendor. But still she felt that odd +sensation of acting in a comedy which would be over as soon as the +lights were out. Suddenly she recollected the bare board in the Rue St. +Jean, the coarse white platters, the hunches of sour bread, the lenten +soup, the flavorless _bouilli_, and sighed--sighed audibly, and when her +grandfather asked her why that mournful sound, she told him. Her courage +never forsook her long. + +"It has done you no harm to sup your share of Spartan broth; hard living +is good for us young," was the squire's comment. "You never +complained--your dry little letters always confessed to excellent +health. When I was at school we fed roughly. The joints were cut into +lumps which had all their names, and we were in honor bound not to pick +and choose, but to strike with the fork and take what came up." + +"Of course," said Bessie, pricked in her pride and conscience lest she +should seem to be weakly complaining now--"of course we had treats +sometimes. On madame's birthday we had a glass of white wine at dinner, +which was roast veal and pancakes. And on our own birthdays we might +have _galette_ with sugar, if we liked to give Margotin the money." + +"I trust the whole school had _galette_ with sugar on your birthday, +Elizabeth?" said her grandfather, quietly amused. He was relieved to +find her younger, more child-like in her ideas, than her first +appearance gave him hopes of. His manner relaxed, his tone became +indulgent. When she smiled with a blush, she was his sweet sister Dolly; +when her countenance fell grave again, she was the shy, touchy, +uncertain little girl who had gone to Fairfield on their first +acquaintance so sorely against her inclination. After Jonquil and his +assistant retired, Elizabeth was invited to tell how the time had passed +on board the Foam. + +"Pleasantly, on the whole," she said. "The weather was so fine that we +were on deck from morning till night, and often far on into the night +when the moon shone. It was delightful cruising off the Isle of Wight; +only I had an immense disappointment there." + +"What was that?" Mr. Fairfax asked, though he had a shrewd guess. + +"I did not remember how easy it is to send a letter--not being used to +write without leave--and I trusted Mr. Wiley, whom I met on Ryde pier +going straight back to Beechhurst, with a message to them at home, which +he forgot to deliver. And though I did write after, it was too late, for +we left Ryde the same day. So I lost the opportunity of seeing my father +and mother. It was a pity, because we were so near; and I was all the +more sorry because it was my own fault." + +Mr. Fairfax was silent for a few minutes after this bold confession. He +had interdicted any communication with the Forest, as Mr. Carnegie +prevised. He did not, however, consider it necessary to provoke Bessie's +ire by telling her that he was responsible for her immense +disappointment. He let that pass, and when he spoke again it was to draw +her out on the more important subject of what progress Mr. Cecil +Burleigh had made in her interest. It was truly vexatious, but as Bessie +told her simple tale she was conscious that her color rose and deepened +slowly to a burning blush. Why? She vehemently assured herself that she +did not care a straw for Mr. Cecil Burleigh, that she disliked him +rather than otherwise, yet at the mere sound of his name she blushed. +Perhaps it was because she dreaded lest anybody should suspect the +mistake her vanity had made before. Her grandfather gave her one acute +glance, and was satisfied that this business also went well. + +"Mr. Cecil Burleigh left the yacht at Ryde. It was the first day of the +regatta when we anchored there, and we landed and saw the town," was all +Bessie said in words, but her self-betrayal was eloquent. + +"We--what do you mean by _we_? Did your uncle Frederick land?" asked the +squire, not caring in the least to know. + +"No--only Mr. Cecil Burleigh and myself. We went to the house of some +friends of his where we had lunch; and afterward Mrs. Gardiner and one +of the young ladies took me to the Arcade. My uncle never landed at all +from the day we left Caen till we arrived at Scarcliffe. Mrs. Betts went +into Harwich with me. That is a very quaint old town, but nothing in +England looks so battered and decayed as the French cities do." + +Mr. Fairfax knew all about Miss Julia Gardiner, and Elizabeth's +information that Mr. Cecil Burleigh had called on the family in Ryde +caused him to reflect. It was very imprudent to take Elizabeth with +him--very imprudent indeed; of course, the squire could not know how +little he was to blame. To take her mind off the incident that seriously +annoyed himself, he asked what troubles Caen had seen, and Bessie, +thankful to discourse of something not confusing, answered him like a +book: + +"Oh, many. It is very impoverished and dilapidated. The revocation of +the Edict of Nantes ruined its trade. Its principal merchants were +Huguenots: there are still amongst the best families some of the +Reformed religion. Then in the great Revolution it suffered again; the +churches were desecrated, and turned to all manner of common uses; some +are being restored, but I myself have seen straw hoisted in at a church +window, beautiful with flamboyant tracery in the arch, the shafts below +being partly broken away." + +Mr. Fairfax remarked that France was too prone to violent remedies; then +reverting to the subjects uppermost in his thoughts, he said, "Elections +and politics cannot have much interest for you yet, Elizabeth, but +probably you have heard that Mr. Cecil Burleigh is going to stand for +Norminster?" + +"Yes; he spoke of it to my uncle Frederick. He is a very liberal +Conservative, from what I heard him say. There was a famous contest for +Hampton when I was not more than twelve years old: we went to see the +members chaired. My father was orange--the Carnegies are almost +radicals; they supported Mr. Hiloe--and we wore orange rosettes." + +"A most unbecoming color! You must take up with blue now; blue is the +only wear for a Fairfax. Most men might wear motley for a sign of their +convictions. Let us return to the octagon parlor; it is cheerful with a +fire after dinner. At Abbotsmead there are not many evenings when a fire +is not acceptable at dusk." + +The fire was very acceptable; it was very composing and pleasant. Bright +flashes of flame kindled and reddened the fragrant dry pine chips and +played about the lightly-piled logs. Mr. Fairfax took his own +commodious chair on one side of the hearth, facing the uncurtained +windows; a low seat confronted him for Bessie. Both were inclined to be +silent, for both were full of thought. The rich color and gilding of the +volumes that filled the dwarf bookcases caught the glow, as did +innumerable pretty objects besides--water-color drawings on the walls, +mirrors that reflected the landscape outside, statuettes in shrines of +crimson fluted silk--but the prettiest object by far in this dainty +lady's chamber was still Bessie Fairfax, in her white raiment and +rippled, shining hair. + +This was her grandfather's reflection, and again that impulse to love +her that he had felt at Beechhurst long ago began to sway his feelings. +It was on the cards that he might become to her a most indulgent, fond +old man; but then Elizabeth must be submissive, and do his will in great +things if he allowed her to rule in small. Bessie had dropt her mask and +showed her bright face, at peace for the moment; but it was shadowed +again by the resurrection of all her wrongs when her grandfather said on +bidding her good-night, "Perhaps, Elizabeth, the assurance that will +tend most to promote your comfort at Abbotsmead, to begin with, is that +you have a perfect right to be here." + +Her astonishment was too genuine to be hidden. Did her grandfather +imagine that she was flattered by her domicile in his grand house? It +was exile to her quite as much as the old school at Caen. Nothing had +ever occurred to shake her original conviction that she was cruelly used +in being separated from her friends in the Forest. _They_ were her +family--not these strangers. Bessie dropped him her embarrassed +school-girl's curtsey, and said, "Good-night, sir"--not even a Thank +you! Mr. Fairfax thought her manner abrupt, but he did not know the +depth and tenacity of her resentment, or he would have recognized the +blunder he had committed in bringing her into Woldshire with unsatisfied +longings after old, familiar scenes. + +Bessie was of a thoroughly healthy nature and warmly affectionate. She +felt very lonely and unfriended; she wished that her grandfather had +said he was glad to have her at Abbotsmead, instead of telling her that +she had a _right_ to be there; but she was also very tired, and sleep +soon prevailed over both sweet and bitter fancies. Premature resolutions +she made none; she had been warned against them by Madame Fournier as +mischievous impediments to making the best of life, which is so much +less often "what we could wish than what we must even put up with." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_THE NEXT MORNING._ + + +Perplexities and distressed feelings notwithstanding, Bessie Fairfax +awoke at an early hour perfectly rested and refreshed. In the east the +sun was rising in glory. A soft, bluish haze hung about the woods, a +thick dew whitened the grass. She rose to look out of the window. + +"It is going to be a lovely day," she said, and coiled herself in a +cushioned chair to watch the dawn advancing. + +All the world was hushed and silent yet. Slowly the light spread over +the gardens, over the meadows and cornfields, chasing away the shadows +and revealing the hues of shrub and flower. A reach of the river stole +into view, and the red roof of an old mill on its banks. Then there was +a musical, monotonous, reiterated call not far off which roused the +cattle, and brought them wending leisurely towards the milking-shed. The +crowing of cocks near and more remote, the chirping of little birds +under the eaves, began and increased. A laborer, then another, on their +way to work, passed within sight along a field-path leading to the mill; +a troop of reapers came by the same road. Then there was the pleasant +sound of sharpening a scythe, and Bessie saw a gardener on the lawn +stoop to his task. + +She returned to her pillow, and slept again until she was awakened by +somebody coming to her bedside. It was Mrs. Betts, bearing in her hands +one of those elegant china services for a solitary cup of tea which have +popularized that indulgence amongst ladies. + +"What is it?" Bessie asked, gazing with a puzzled air at the tiny +turquoise-blue vessels. "Tea? I am going to get up to breakfast." + +"Certainly, miss, I hope so. But it is a custom with many young ladies +to have a cup of tea before dressing." + +"I will touch my bell if I want anything. No--no tea, thank you," +responded Bessie; and the waiting-woman felt herself dismissed. Bessie +chose to make and unmake her toilette alone. It was easy to see that her +education had not been that of a young lady of quality, for she was +quite independent of her maid; but Mrs. Betts was a woman of experience +and made allowance for her, convinced that, give her time, she would be +helpless and exacting enough. + +Mr. Fairfax and his granddaughter met in the inner hall with a polite +"Good-morning." Elizabeth looked shyly proud, but sweet as a dewy rose. +The door of communication with the great hall was thrown wide open. It +was all in cool shade, redolent of fresh air and the perfume of flowers. +Jonquil waited to usher them to breakfast, which was laid in the room +where they had dined last night. + +Mr. Fairfax was never a talker, but he made an effort on behalf of +Bessie, with whom it was apparently good manners not to speak until she +was spoken to. "What will you do, Elizabeth, by way of making +acquaintance with your home? Will you have Macky with her legends of +family history and go over the house, or will you take a turn outside +with me and visit the stables?" + +Bessie knew which it was her duty to prefer, and fortunately her duty +tallied with her inclination; her countenance beamed, and she said, "I +will go out with you, if you please." + +"You ride, I know. There is a nice little filly breaking in for you: you +must name her, as she is to be yours." + +"May I call her Janey?" + +"Janey! Was that the name of Mr. Carnegie's little mare?" + +"No; she was Miss Hoyden. Janey was the name of my first friend at +school. She went away soon, and I have never heard of her since. But I +shall: I often think of her." + +"You have a constant memory, Elizabeth--not the best memory for your +happiness. What are you eating? Only bread and butter. Will you have no +sardines, bacon, eggs, honey? Nothing! A very abstemious young lady! You +have done with school, and may wean yourself from school-fare." + +Breakfast over, Mrs. Betts brought her young lady's leghorn hat and a +pair of new Limerick gauntlet-gloves--nice enough for Sunday in Bessie's +modest opinion, but as they were presented for common wear she put them +on and said nothing. Mr. Fairfax conducted his granddaughter to his +private room, which had a lobby and porch into the garden, and twenty +paces along the wall a door into the stable-yard. The groom who had the +nice little filly in charge to train was just bringing her out of her +stable. + +"There is your Janey, Elizabeth," said her grandfather. + +"Oh, what a darling!" cried Bessie in a voice that pleased him, as the +pretty creature began to dance and prance and sidle and show off her +restive caprices, making the groom's mounting her for some minutes +impracticable. + +"It is only her play, miss--she ain't no vice at all," the man said, +pleading her excuses. "She'll be as dossil as dossil can be when I've +give her a gallop. But this is her of a morning--so fresh there's no +holding her." + +Another groom had come to aid, and at length the first was seated firm +in the saddle, with a flowing skirt to mimic the lady that Janey was to +carry. And with a good deal of manoeuvring they got safe out of the +yard. + +"You would like to follow and see? Come, then," said the squire, and led +Bessie by a short cut across the gardens to the park. Janey was flying +like the wind over the level turf, but she was well under guidance, and +when her rider brought her round to the spot where Mr. Fairfax and the +young lady stood to watch, she quite bore out his encomium on her +docility. She allowed Bessie to stroke her neck, and even took from her +hand an apple which the groom produced from a private store of +encouragement and reward in his pocket. + +"It will be well to give her a good breathing before Miss Fairfax mounts +her, Ranby," said his master, walking round her approvingly. Then to +Bessie he said, "Do you know enough of horses not to count rashness +courage, Elizabeth?" + +"I am ready to take your word or Ranby's for what is venturesome," was +Bessie's moderate reply. "My father taught me to ride as soon as I could +sit, so that I have no fear. But I am out of practice, for I have never +ridden since I went to Caen." + +"You must have a new habit: you shall have a heavy one for the winter, +and ride to the meet with me occasionally. I suppose you have never done +that?" + +"Mr. Musgrave once took me to see the hounds throw off. I rode Harry's +pony that day. I was staying at Brook for a week." + +Mr. Fairfax knew who "Mr. Musgrave" was and who "Harry" was, but Bessie +did not recollect that he knew. However, as he asked no explanation of +them, she volunteered none, and they returned to the gardens. + +The cultivated grounds of Abbotsmead extended round three sides of the +house. On the west, where the principal entrance was, an outer +semicircle of lime trees, formed by the extension of the avenue, +enclosed a belt of evergreens, and in the middle of the drive rose a +mound over which spread a magnificent cedar. The great hall was the +central portion of the building, lighted by two lofty, square-headed +windows on either side of the door; the advanced wings that flanked it +had corresponding bays of exquisite proportions, which were the +end-windows of the great drawing-room and the old banqueting-room. The +former was continued along the south, with one bay very wide and deep, +and on either side of it a smaller bay, all preserving their dim glazing +after the old Venetian pattern. Beyond the drawing-room was the modern +adaptation of the wing which contained the octagon parlor and +dining-room: from the outside the harmony of construction was not +disturbed. The library adjoined the banqueting-room on the north, and +overlooked a fine expanse where the naturalization of American trees and +shrubs had been the hobby of the Fairfaxes for more than one generation. +The flower-garden was formed in terraces on the south, and was a mixture +of Italian and old English taste. The walls were a mingled tapestry of +roses, jessamine, sweet clematis, and all climbing plants hardy enough +to bear the rigors of the northern winter. Trimmed in though ever so +closely in the fall of the year, in the summer it bushed and blossomed +out into a wantonly luxuriant, delicious variety of color and fragrance. +If here and there a bit of gray stone showed through the mass, it +seemed only to enhance the loveliness of the leaf and flower-work. + +Bessie Fairfax stood to admire its glowing intricacy, and with a +remarkable effort of candor exclaimed, "I think this is as pretty as +anything in the Forest--as pretty as Fairfield or the manor-house at +Brook;" which amused her grandfather, for the south front of the old +mansion-house of Abbotsmead was one of the most grandly picturesque +specimens of domestic architecture to be found in the kingdom. + +In such perambulations time slips away fast. The squire looked at his +watch. It was eleven o'clock; at half-past he was due at a magistrate's +meeting two miles off; he must leave Bessie to amuse herself until +luncheon at two. Bessie was contented to be left. She replied that she +would now go indoors and write to her mother. Her grandfather paused an +instant on her answer, then nodded acquiescence and went away in haste. +Was he disappointed that she said nothing spontaneous? Bessie did not +give that a thought, but she said in her letter, "I do believe that my +grandfather wishes me to be happy here"--a possibility which had not +struck her until she took a pen in her hand, and set about reflecting +what news she had to communicate to her dear friends at Beechhurst. This +brilliant era of her vicissitudes was undoubtedly begun with a little +aversion. + +In the absence of her young lady, Mrs. Betts had unpacked and carefully +disposed of Bessie's limited possessions. + +"Your wardrobe will not give me much trouble, miss," said the +waiting-woman, with sly, good-humored allusion to the extent of it. + +"No," answered Bessie, misunderstanding her in perfect simplicity. "You +will find all in order. At school we mended our clothes and darned our +stockings punctually every week." + +"Did you really do this beautiful darning, miss? It is the finest +darning I ever met with--not to say it was lace." Mrs. Betts spoke more +seriously, as she held up to view a pair of filmy Lille thread stockings +which had sustained considerable dilapidation and repair. + +"Yes. They were not worth the trouble. Mademoiselle Adelaide made us +wear Lille thread on dancing-days that we might never want stockings to +mend. She had a passion for darning. She taught us to graft also: you +will find one pair of black silk grafted toe and heel. I have thought +them much too precious ever to wear since. I keep them for a curiosity." + +On the tables in Bessie's sitting-room were set out her humble +appliances for work, for writing--an enamelled white box with cut-steel +ornaments, much scratched; a capacious oval basket with a quilted red +silk cover, much faded; a limp Russia-leather blotting-book wrapped in +silver paper (Harry Musgrave had presented it to Bessie on her going +into exile, and she had cherished it too dearly to expose it to the risk +of blots at school). "I think," said she, "I shall begin to use it now." + +She released it from its envelope, smelt it, and laid it down +comfortably in front of the Sevres china inkstand. All the permanent +furniture of the writing-table was of Sevres china. Bessie thought it +grotesque, and had no notion of the value of it. + +"The big basket may be put aside?" suggested Mrs. Betts, and her young +lady did not gainsay her. But when the shabby little white enamelled box +was threatened, she commanded that that should be left--she had had it +so long she could not bear to part with it. It had been the joint-gift +of Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie on her twelfth birthday. + +Released, at length, from Mrs. Betts's respectful, observant presence, +Bessie began to look about her and consider her new habitation. A sense +of exaltation and a sense of bondage possessed her. These pretty, quaint +rooms were hers, then? It was not a day-dream--it was real. She was at +Abbotsmead--at Kirkham. Her true home-nest under the eaves at Beechhurst +was hundreds of miles away: farther still was the melancholy garden in +the Rue St. Jean. + +Opposite the parlor window was the fireplace, the lofty mantelshelf +being surmounted by a circular mirror, so inclined as to reflect the +landscape outside. Upon the panelled walls hung numerous specimens of +the elegant industry of Bessie's predecessors--groups of flowers +embroidered on tarnished white satin; shepherds and shepherdesses with +shell-pink painted faces and raiment of needlework in many colors; +pallid sketches of scenery; crayon portraits of youths and maidens of +past generations, none younger than fifty years ago. There was a +bookcase of white wood ruled with gold lines, like the spindly chairs +and tables, and here Bessie could study, if she pleased, the literary +tastes of ancient ladies, matrons and virgins, long since departed this +life in the odor of gentility and sanctity. The volumes were in bindings +rich and solid, and the purchase or presentation of each had probably +been an event. Bessie took down here and there one. Those ladies who +spent their graceful leisure at embroidery-frames were students of +rather stiff books. Locke _On the Conduct of the Human Understanding_ +and Paley's _Evidences of the Christian Religion_ Bessie took down and +promptly restored; also the _Sermons_ of Dr. Barrow and the _Essays_ of +Dr. Goldsmith. The _Letters_ of Mrs. Katherine Talbot and Mrs. Elizabeth +Carter engaged her only a few minutes, and the novels of Miss Edgeworth +not much longer. The most modern volumes in the collection were +inscribed with the name of "Dorothy Fairfax," who reigned in the days of +Byron and Wordsworth, Keats and Shelley, and had through them (from the +contents of three white vellum-covered volumes of extracts in her +autograph) learnt to love the elder poets whose works in quarto +populated the library. To Bessie these volumes became a treasure out of +which she filled her mind with songs and ballads, lays and lyrics. The +third volume had a few blank pages at the end, and these were the last +lines in it: + + "Absence, hear thou my protestation + Against thy strength, + Distance and length; + Do what thou canst for alteration: + For hearts of truest mettle + Absence doth join, and Time doth settle." + +Twice over Bessie read this, then to herself repeated it aloud--all with +thoughts of her friends in the Forest. + +The next minute her fortitude gave way, tears rushed to her eyes, Madame +Fournier's precepts vanished out of remembrance, and she cried like a +child wanting its mother. In which unhappy condition Mrs. Betts +discovered her, sitting upon the floor, when the little page came flying +to announce luncheon and visitors. It was two o'clock already. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_NEIGHBORS TO ABBOTSMEAD._ + + +Some recent duties of Mrs. Betts's service had given her, on occasion, +an authoritative manner, and she was impelled to use it when she +witnessed the forlornness of her young lady. "I am surprised that you +should give way, miss," said she. "In the middle of the day, too, when +callers are always liable, and your dear, good grandpapa expects a +smiling face! To make your eyes as red as a ferret--" + +"Indeed, they are not!" cried Bessie, and rose and ran to the +looking-glass. + +Mrs. Betts smiled at the effect of her tactics, and persevered: "Let me +see, miss: because if it is plain you have been fretting, you had better +make an excuse and stop up stairs. But the master will be vexed." Bessie +turned and submitted her countenance to inspection. "There was never a +complexion yet that was improved by fretting," was the waiting-woman's +severe insinuation. "You must wait five minutes, and let the air from +the window blow on you. Really, miss, you are too old to cry." + +Bessie offered no rejoinder; she was ashamed. The imperative necessity +of controlling the tender emotions had been sternly inculcated by Madame +Fournier. "Now shall I do?" she humbly asked, feeling the temperature of +her cheeks with her cool hands. + +Mrs. Betts judiciously hesitated, then, speaking in a milder voice, +said, "Yes--perhaps it would not be noticed. But tears was the very +mischief for eyes--_that_ Miss Fairfax might take her word for. And it +was old Lady Angleby and her niece, one of the Miss Burleighs, who were +down stairs." + +Bessie blushed consciously, appealed to the looking-glass again, +adjusted her mind to her duty, and descended to the octagon parlor. The +rose was no worse for the shower. Mr. Fairfax was there, standing with +his back to the fireplace, and lending his ears to an argument that was +being slowly enunciated by the noble matron who filled his chair. A +younger lady, yet not very young, who was seated languidly with her back +to the light, acknowledged Bessie's entrance with a smile that invited +her approach. "I think," she said, "you know my brother Cecil?" and so +they were introduced. + +For several minutes yet Lady Angleby's eloquence oozed on (her theme was +female emancipation), the squire listening with an inscrutable +countenance. "Now, I hope you feel convinced," was her triumphant +conclusion. Mr. Fairfax did not say whether he was convinced or not. He +seemed to observe that Elizabeth had come in, and begged to present his +granddaughter to her ladyship. Elizabeth made her pretty curtsey, and +was received with condescension, and felt, on a sudden, a most +unmannerly inclination to laugh, which she dissembled under a girlish +animation and alacrity in talk. The squire was pleased that she +manifested none of the stupid shyness of new young-ladyhood, though in +the presence of one of the most formidable of county magnates. Elizabeth +did not know that Lady Angleby was formidable, but she saw that she was +immense, and her sense of humor was stirred by the instant perception +that her self-consequence was as enormous as her bulk. But Miss Burleigh +experienced a thrill of alarm. The possibility of being made fun of by a +little simple girl had never suggested itself to the mind of her august +relative, but there was always the risk that her native shrewdness might +wake up some day from the long torpor induced by the homage paid to her +rank, and discover the humiliating fact that she was not always +imposing. By good luck for Miss Fairfax's favor with her, Pascal's maxim +recurred to her memory--that though it is not necessary to respect grand +people it is necessary to bow to them--and her temptation to be merry at +Lady Angleby's expense was instantly controlled. Miss Burleigh could not +but make a note of her sarcastic humor as a decidedly objectionable, and +even dangerous, trait in the young lady's character. That she dissembled +it so admirably was, however, to her credit. After his first movement of +satisfaction the squire was himself perplexed. Elizabeth's spirits were +lively and capricious, she was joyous-tempered, but she would not dare +to quiz; he must be mistaken. In fact, she had not yet acquired the +suppressed manner and deferential tone to her betters which are the +perpetuation of that ancient rule of etiquette by which inferiors are +guarded against affecting to be equal in talk with the mighty. Mr. +Fairfax proposed rather abruptly to go in to luncheon. Jonquil had +announced it five minutes ago. + +"She is beautiful! _beautiful_! I am charmed. We shall have her with +us--a beautiful young woman would popularize our cause beyond anything. +But how would Cecil approve of that?" whispered Lady Angleby as she +toiled into the adjoining room with the help of her host's arm. + +"Mr. Cecil Burleigh is wise and prudent. He will know how to temporize +with the vagaries of his womankind," said the squire. But he was highly +gratified by the complimentary appreciation of his granddaughter. + +"Vagaries, indeed! The surest signs of sound and healthy progress that +have shown themselves in this generation." + +Lady Angleby mounted her hobby. She was that queer modern development, a +democrat skin-deep, born and bred in feudal state, clothed in purple and +fine linen, faring sumptuously every day, and devoted colloquially to +the regeneration of the middle classes. The lower classes might now be +trusted to take care of themselves (with the help of the government and +the philanthropists), but such large discovery was being made of +frivolity, ignorance, and helplessness amongst the young women of the +great intermediate body of the people that Lady Angleby and a few select +friends had determined, looking for the blessing of Providence on their +endeavors, to take them under their patronage. + +"It is," she said, "a most hopeful thing to see the discontent that is +stirring amongst young women in this age, because an essential +preliminary to their improvement is the conviction that they have the +capacity for a freer, nobler life than that to which they are bound by +obsolete domestic traditions. Let us put within the reach of every young +girl an education that shall really develop her character and her +faculties. Why should the education of girls be arrested at eighteen, +and the apprenticeship of their brothers be continued to +one-and-twenty?" This query was launched into the air, but Lady +Angleby's prominent blue eyes seemed to appeal to Bessie, who was +visibly dismayed at the personal nature of the suggestion. + +Mr. Fairfax smiled and bade her speak, and then laughing, she said, +"Because at eighteen girls tire of grammar and dictionaries and precepts +for the conduct of life. We are women, and want to try life itself." + +"And what do you know to fit you for life?" said Lady Angleby firmly. + +"Nothing, except by instinct and precept." + +"Exactly so. And where is your experience? You have none. Girls plunge +into life at eighteen destitute of experience--weak, foolish, ignorant +of men and themselves. No wonder the world is encumbered with so many +helpless poor creatures as it is." + +"I should not like to live with only girls till one-and-twenty. What +experience could we teach each other?" said Bessie, rather at sea. A +notion flashed across her that Lady Angleby might be talking nonsense, +but as her grandfather seemed to listen with deference, she could not be +sure. + +"Girls ought to be trained in logic, geometry, and physical science to +harden their mental fibre; and how can they be so trained if their +education is to cease at eighteen?" Then with a modest tribute to her +own undeveloped capacities, the great lady cried, "Oh, what I might have +done if I had enjoyed the advantages I claim for others!" + +"You don't know. You have never yet been thrown on your own resources," +said Bessie with an air of infinite suggestion. + +Lady Angleby stared in cold astonishment, but Bessie preserved her gay +self-possession. Lady Angleby's cold stare was to most persons utterly +confusing. Miss Burleigh, an inattentive listener (perhaps because her +state of being was always that of a passive listener), gently observed +that she had no idea what any of them would do if they were thrown on +their own resources. + +"No idea is ever expected from you, Mary," said her aunt, and turned her +stony regard upon the poor lady, causing her to collapse with a silent +shiver. Bessie felt indignant. What was this towering old woman, with +her theory of feminine freedom and practice of feminine tyranny? There +was a momentary hush, and then Lady Angleby with pompous complacency +resumed, addressing the squire: + +"Our large scheme cannot be carried into effect without the general +concurrence of the classes we propose to benefit, but our pet plan for +proving to what women may be raised demands the concurrence of only a +few influential persons. I am sanguine that the government will yield to +our representations, and make us a grant for the foundation of a college +to be devoted to their higher education. We ask for twenty thousand +pounds." + +"I hope the government will have more wit," Mr. Fairfax exclaimed, his +rallying tone taking the sting out of his words. "The private hobbies of +you noble ladies must be supported out of your private purses, at the +expense of more selfish whims." + +"There is nothing so unjust as prejudice, unless it be jealousy," +exclaimed Lady Angleby with delicious unreason. "You would keep women in +subjection." + +Mr. Fairfax laughed, and assented to the proposition. "You clamor for +the high education of a few at the cost of the many; is that fair?" he +continued. "High education is a luxury for those who can afford it--a +rich endowment for the small minority who have the power of mind to +acquire it; and no more to be provided for that small minority out of +the national exchequer than silk attire for our conspicuous beauties." + +"I shall never convert you into an advocate for the elevation of the +sex. You sustain the old cry--the inferiority of woman's intellect." + +"'The earth giveth much mould whereof earthen vessels are made, but +little dust that gold cometh of.' High education exists already for the +wealthy, and commercial enterprise will increase the means of it as the +demand increases. If you see a grain of gold in the dust of common life, +and likely to be lost there, rescue it for the crucible, but most such +grains of gold find out the way to refine themselves. As for gilding the +earthen pots, I take leave to think that it would be labor wasted--that +they are, in fact, more serviceable without ornament, plain, well-baked +clay. Help those who are helpless and protect those who are weak as much +as you please, but don't vex the strong and capable with idle +interference. Leave the middle classes to supply their wants in their +own way--they know them best, and have gumption enough--and stick we to +the ancient custom of providing for the sick and needy." + +"The ancient custom is good, and is not neglected, but the modern +fashion is better." + +"That I contest. There is more alloy of vanity and busy-bodyism in +modern philanthropy than savor of charity." + +"We shall never agree," cried Lady Angleby with mock despair. "Miss +Fairfax, this is the way with us--your grandfather and I never meet but +we fall out." + +"You are not much in earnest," said Bessie. Terrible child! she had set +down this great lady as a great sham. + +"To live in the world and to be absolutely truthful is very difficult, +is all but impossible," remarked Miss Burleigh with a mild +sententiousness that sounded irrelevant, but came probably in the +natural sequence of her unspoken thoughts. + +"When you utter maxims like your famous progenitor you should give us +his nod too, Mary," said her aunt. Then she suddenly inquired of Mr. +Fairfax, "When do you expect Cecil?" + +"Next week. He must address the electors at Norminster on Thursday. I +hope he will arrive here on Tuesday." + +Lady Angleby looked full in Bessie's face, which was instantly +overspread by a haughty blush. Miss Burleigh looked anywhere else. And +both drew the same conclusion--that the young lady's imagination was all +on fire, and that her heart would not be slow to yield and melt in the +combustion. The next move was back to the octagon parlor. The young +people walked to the open window; the elders had communications to +exchange that might or might not concern them, but which they were not +invited to hear. They leant on the sill and talked low. Miss Burleigh +began the conversation by remarking that Miss Fairfax must find +Abbotsmead very strange, being but just escaped from school. + +"It is strange, but one grows used to any place very soon," Bessie +answered. + +"You have no companion, and Mr. Fairfax sets his face against duennas. +What shall you do next week?" + +"What I am bid," said Bessie laconically. "My grandfather has bespoken +for me the good offices of Mrs. Stokes as guide to the choice of a blue +bonnet; the paramount duty of my life at present seems to be to conform +myself to the political views of Mr. Cecil Burleigh in the color of my +ribbons. I have great pleasure in doing so, for blue is my color, and +suits me." + +Miss Burleigh had a good heart, and let Bessie's little bravado pass. +"Are you interested in the coming election? I cannot think of anything +else. My brother's career may almost be said to depend on his success." + +"Then I hope he will win." + +"Your kind good wishes should help him. You will come and stay at +Brentwood?" + +"Brentwood? what is Brentwood?" + +"My aunt's house. It is only two miles out of Norminster. My aunt was so +impatient to see you that she refused to wait one day. Cecil will often +be with us, for my father's house is at Carisfort--too far off." + +"I am at my grandfather's commands. I have not a friend here. I know no +one, and have even to find out the ways and manners of my new world. Do +you live at Brentwood?" + +"Yes. My home is with my aunt. I shall be glad, very glad, to give you +any help or direction that you like to ask for. Mrs. Stokes has a +charming taste in dress, and is a dear little woman. You could not have +a nicer friend; and she is well married, which is always an advantage in +a girl's friend. You will like Colonel Stokes too." + +In the course of the afternoon Bessie had the opportunity of judging for +herself. Colonel Stokes brought his wife to call upon her. Their +residence was close by Abbotsmead, at the Abbey Lodge, restored by Mr. +Fairfax for their occupation. Colonel Stokes was old enough to be his +wife's father, and young enough to be her hero and companion. She was a +plump little lady, full of spirits and loving-kindness. Bessie +considered her, and decided that she was of her own age, but Mrs. Stokes +had two boys at home to contradict that. She looked so girlish still in +her sage matronhood because she was happy, gay, contented with her life, +because her eyes were blue and limpid as deep lake water, and her cheeks +round and fresh as half-blown roses ungathered. Her dress was as dainty +as herself, and merited the eulogium that Miss Burleigh had passed upon +it. + +"You are going to be so kind as to introduce me to a good milliner at +Norminster?" Bessie said after a few polite preliminaries. + +"Yes--to Miss Jocund, who will be delighted to make your acquaintance. I +shall tell her to take pains with you, but there will be no need to tell +her that; she always does take pains with girls who promise to do her +credit. I am afraid there is not time to send to Paris for the blue +bonnet you must wear next Thursday, but she will make you something +nice; you may trust her. This wonderful election is the event of the +day. We have resolved that Mr. Cecil Burleigh shall head the poll." + +"How shall you ensure his triumph? Are you going to canvass for him?" + +"No, no, that is out of date. But Lady Angleby threatens that she will +leave Brentwood, and never employ a Norminster tradesman again if they +are so ungrateful as to refuse their support to her nephew. They are +radicals every one." + +"And is not she also a radical? She talks of the emancipation of women +by keeping them at school till one-and-twenty, of the elevation of the +masses, and the mutual improvement of everybody not in the peerage." + +"You are making game of her, like my Arthur. No, she is not a radical; +that is all her _hum_. I believe Lord Angleby was something of the sort, +but I don't understand much about politics." + +"Only for the present occasion we are blue?" said Bessie airily. + +"Yes--all blue," echoed Mrs. Stokes. "Sky-blue," and they both laughed. + +"You must agree at what hour you will go into Norminster on Monday--the +half-past-eleven train is the best," Colonel Stokes said. + +"Cannot we go to-morrow?" his wife asked. + +"No, it is Saturday, market-day;" and his suggestion was adopted. + +When the visit was over, in the pleasantness of the late afternoon, +Bessie walked through the gardens and across the park with these +neighbors to Abbotsmead. A belt of shrubbery and a sunk fence divided +the grounds of the lodge from the park, and there was easy +communication by a rustic bridge and a wicket left on the latch. "I hope +you will come often to and fro, and that you will seek me whenever you +want me. This is the shortest way," Mrs. Stokes said to her. Bessie +thanked her, and then walked back to the house, taking her time, and +thinking what a long while ago it was since yesterday. + +Yesterday! Only yesterday she was on board the Foam that had brought her +from France, that had passed by the Forest--no longer ago than +yesterday, yet as far off already as a year ago. + +Thinking of it, she fell into a melancholy that belonged to her +character. She was tired with the incidents of the day. At dinner Mr. +Fairfax seemed to miss something that had charmed him the night before. +She answered when he spoke, but her gayety was under eclipse. They were +both relieved when the evening came to an end. Bessie was glad to escape +to solitude, and her grandfather experienced a sense of vague +disappointment, but he supposed he must have patience. Even Jonquil +observed the difference, and was sorry that this bright young lady who +had come into the house should enter so soon into its clouds; he was +grieved too that his dear old master, who betrayed an unwonted humility +in his desire to please her, should not at once find his reward in her +affection. Bessie was not conscious that it would have been any boon to +him. She had no rule yet to measure the present by except the past, and +her experience of his usage in the past did not invite her tenderness. A +reasonable and mild behavior was all she supposed to be required of her. +Anything else--whether for better or worse--would be spontaneous. She +could not affect either love or dislike, and how far she could dissemble +either she had yet to learn. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +_PAST AND PRESENT._ + + +The next morning Bessie was left entirely at liberty to amuse herself. +Mr. Fairfax had breakfasted alone, and was gone to Norminster before +she came down stairs. Jonquil made the communication. Bessie wondered +whether it was often so, and whether she would have to make out the +greater part of the days for herself. But she said nothing; some feeling +that she did not reason about told her that there must be no complaining +here, let the days be what they might. She wrote a long letter to Madame +Fournier, and then went out of doors, having declined Mrs. Betts's +proposed attendance. + +"Where is the village?" she asked a boy who was sweeping up fallen +leaves from the still dewy lawn. He pointed her the way to go. "And the +church and parsonage?" she added. + +"They be all together, miss, a piece beyond the lodge." + +With an object in view Bessie could feel interested. She was going to +see her mother's home, the house where she was herself born; and on the +road she began to question whether she had any kinsfolk on her mother's +side. Mrs. Carnegie had once told her that she believed not--unless +there were descendants of her grandfather Bulmer's only brother in +America, whither he had emigrated as a young man; but she had never +heard of any. A cousin of some sort would have been most acceptable to +Bessie in her dignified isolation. She did not naturally love solitude. + +The way across the park by which she had been directed brought her out +upon the high-road--a very pleasant road at that spot, with a fir wood +climbing a shallow hill opposite, bounded by a low stone fence, all +crusted with moss and lichen, age and weather. + +For nearly half a mile along the roadside lay an irregular open space of +broken ground with fine scattered trees upon it, and close turf where +primroses were profuse in spring. An old woman was sitting in the shade +knitting and tending a little black cow that cropped the sweet moist +grass. Only for the sake of speaking Bessie asked again her way to the +village. + +"Keep straight on, miss, you can't miss it," said the old woman, and +gazed up at her inquisitively. + +So Bessie kept straight on until she came to the ivy-covered walls of +the lodge; the porch opened upon the road, and Colonel Stokes was +standing outside in conversation with another gentleman, who was the +vicar of Kirkham, Mr. Forbes. Bessie went on when she had passed them, +shyly disconcerted, for Colonel Stokes had come forward with an air of +surprise and had asked her if she was lost. Perhaps it was unusual for +young ladies to walk alone here? She did not know. + +The gentlemen watched her out of sight. "Miss Fairfax, of course," said +the vicar. "She walks admirably--I like to see that." + +"A handsome girl," said Colonel Stokes. And then they reverted to their +interrupted discussion, the approaching election at Norminster. The +clergyman was very keen about it, the old Indian officer was almost +indifferent. + +Meanwhile Bessie reached the church--a very ancient church, spacious and +simple, with a square tower and a porch that was called Norman. The +graveyard surrounded it. A flagged pathway led from the gate between the +grassy mounds to the door, which stood open that the Saturday sun might +drive out the damp vapors of the week. She went in and saw whitewashed +walls; thick round pillars between the nave and aisles; deep-sunken +windows dim with fragmentary pieces of colored glass, and all more or +less out of the perpendicular; a worm-eaten oak-screen separating the +chancel and a solemn enclosure, erst a chapel, now the Fairfax pew; a +loft where the choir sat in front for divine service, with fiddle and +bassoon, and the school-children sat behind, all under the eye of the +parson and his clerk, who was also the school-master. + +In the chancel were several monuments to the memory of defunct pastors. +The oldest was very old, and the inscription in Latin on brass; the +newest was to Bessie's grandfather--the "Reverend Thomas Bulmer, for +forty-six years vicar of this parish." From the dates he had married +late, for he had died in a good old age in the same year as his daughter +Elizabeth, and only two months before her. In smaller letters below the +inscription-in-chief it was recorded that his wife Letitia was buried at +Torquay in Cornwall, and that this monument was erected to their pious +memory by their only child--"Elizabeth, the wife of the Reverend Geoffry +Fairfax, rector of Beechhurst in the county of Hants." + +All gone--not one left! Bessie pondered over this epitome of family +history, and thought within herself that it was not without cause she +felt alone here. With a shiver she returned into the sunshine and +proceeded up the public road. The vicarage was a little low house, very +humble in its externals, roofed with fluted tiles, and the walls covered +to the height of the chamber windows with green latticework and +creepers. It stood in a spacious garden and orchard, and had +outbuildings at a little distance on the same homely plan. The living +was in the gift of Abbotsmead, and the Fairfaxes had not been moved to +house their pastor, with his three hundred a year, in a residence fit +for a bishop. It was a simple, pleasant, rustic spot. The lower windows +were open, so was the door under the porch. Bessie saw that it could not +have undergone any material change since the summer days of twenty years +ago, when her father, a bright young fellow fresh from college, went to +read there of a morning with the learned vicar, and fell in love with +his pretty Elizabeth, and wooed and won her. + +Bessie, imperfectly informed, exaggerated the resentment with which Mr. +Fairfax had visited his offending son. It was never an active +resentment, but merely a contemptuous acceptance of his irrevocable act. +He said, "Geoffry has married to his taste. His wife is used to a plain +way of living; they will be more useful in a country parish living on +so, free from the temptations of superfluous means." And he gave the +young couple a bare pittance. Time might have brought him relenting, but +time does not always reserve us opportunities. And here was Bessie +Fairfax considering the sorrows and early deaths of her parents, +charging them to her grandfather's account, and confirming herself in +her original judgment that he was a hard and cruel man. + +The village of Kirkham was a sinuous wide street of homesteads and +cottages within gardens, and having a green open border to the road +where geese and pigs, cows and children, pastured indiscriminately. It +was the old order of things where one man was master. The gardens had, +for the most part, a fine show of fragrant flowers, the hedges were +neatly trimmed, the fruit trees were ripening abundantly. Of children, +fat and ruddy, clean and well clothed, there were many playing about, +for their mothers were gone to Norminster market, and there was no +school on Saturday. Bessie spoke to nobody, and nobody spoke to her. +Some of the children dropt her a curtsey, but the majority only stared +at her as a stranger. She felt, somehow, as if she would never be +anything else but a stranger here. When she had passed through the +village to the end of it, where the "Chequers," the forge, and the +wheelwright's shed stood, she came to a wide common. Looking across it, +she saw the river, and found her way home by the mill and the +harvest-fields. + +It would have enhanced Bessie's pleasure, though not her happiness +perhaps, if she could have betaken herself to building castles in the +Woldshire air, but the moment she began to indulge in reverie her +thoughts flew to the Forest. No glamour of pride, enthusiasm, or any +sort of delightful hope mistified her imagination as to her real +indifference towards Abbotsmead. When she reached the garden she sat +down amongst the roses, and gazed at the beautiful old flower-woven +walls that she had admired yesterday, and felt like a visitor growing +weary of the place. Even while her bodily eyes were upon it, her mind's +eye was filled with a vision of the green slopes of the wilderness +garden at Brook, and the beeches laving their shadows in the sweet +running water. + +"I believe I am homesick," she said. "I cannot care for this place. I +should have had a better chance of taking to it kindly if my grandfather +had let me go home for a little while. Everything is an effort here." +And it is to be feared that she gave way again, and fretted in a manner +that Madame Fournier would have grieved to see. But there was no help +for it; her heart was sore, and tears relieved it. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Fairfax was at home to dinner. He returned from Norminster jaded and +out of spirits. Now, Bessie, though she did not love him (though she +felt it a duty to assert and reassert that fact to herself, lest she +should forget it), felt oddly pained when she looked into his face and +saw that he was dull; to be dull signified to be unhappy in Bessie's +vocabulary. But timidity tied her tongue. It was not until Jonquil had +left them to themselves that they attempted any conversation. Then Mr. +Fairfax remarked, "You have been making a tour of investigation, +Elizabeth: you have been into the village?" + +Bessie said that she had, and that she had gone into the church. Then +all at once an impulse came upon her to ask, "Why did you let my parents +go so far away? was it so very wrong in them to marry?" + +"No, not wrong at all. It is written, 'A man shall leave his father and +mother, and cleave unto his wife,'" was the baffling reply she got, and +it silenced her. And not for that occasion only. + +When Bessie retired into the octagon parlor her grandfather stayed +behind. He had been to see Mr. John Short that day, and had heard that a +new aspect had come over the electioneering sky. The Radicals had +received an impetus from some quarter unknown, and were preparing to +make such a hard fight for the representation of Norminster that the +triumph of the Tory party was seriously threatened. This news had vexed +him, but it was not of that he meditated chiefly when he was left alone. +It was of Bessie. He had founded certain pleasurable expectations upon +her, and he felt that these expectations were losing their bloom. He +could not fail to recollect her quietness of last night, when he noticed +the languor of her eyes, the dejection of her mouth, and the effort it +was to her to speak. The question concerning her parents had aroused the +slumbering ache of old remembrance, and had stung him anew with a sense +of her condemnation. A feeling akin to remorse visited him as he sat +considering, and by degrees realizing, what he had done to her, and was +doing; but he had his motive, he had his object in it, and the motive +had seemed to justify the means until he came to see her face to face. +Contact with her warm, distinct humanity began immediately to work a +change in his mind. Absent, he had decided that he could dispose of her +as he would. Present, he recognized that she would have a voice, and +probably a casting voice, in the disposal of herself. He might sever her +from her friends in the Forest, but he would not thereby attach her to +friends and kinsfolk in the north. His last wanton act of selfish +unkindness, in refusing to let her see her old home in passing, was +evidently producing its effect in silent grieving, in resentment and +revolt. + +All his life long Mr. Fairfax had coveted affection, and had missed the +way to win it. No one had ever really loved him except his sister +Dorothy--so he believed; and Elizabeth was so like Dorothy in the face, +in her air, her voice, her gestures, that his heart went out to her with +a yearning that was almost pain. But when he looked at her, she looked +at him again like Dorothy alienated--like Dorothy grown strange. It was +a very curious revival out of the far past. When he was a young man and +Lady Latimer was a girl, there had been a prospect of a double marriage +between their families, but the day that destroyed one hope destroyed +both, and Dorothy Fairfax died of that grief. Elizabeth, with her +tear-worn eyes, was Dorothy's sad self to-night, only the eyes did not +seek his friendly. They were gazing at pictures in the fire when he +rejoined her, and though Bessie moved and raised her head in courteous +recognition of his coming, there was something of avoidance in her +manner, as if she shrank from his inspection. Perhaps she did; she had +no desire to parade her distresses or to reproach him with them. She +meant to be good--only give her time. But she must have time. + +There was a book of photographs on the table that Frederick Fairfax and +his wife had collected during their wedding-tour on the Continent. It +was during the early days of the art, and the pictures were as blurred +and faded as their lives had since become. Bessie was turning them over +with languid interest, when her grandfather, perceiving how she was +employed, said he could show her some foreign views that would please +her better than those dim photographs. He unlocked a drawer in the +writing-table and produced half a dozen little sketch-books, his own and +his sister Dorothy's during their frequent travels together. It seemed +that their practice had been to make an annual tour. + +While Bessie examined the contents of the sketch-books, her grandfather +stood behind her looking over her shoulder, and now and then saying a +few words in explanation, though most of the scenes were named and +dated. They were water-color drawings--bits of landscape, picturesque +buildings, grotesque and quaint figures, odd incidents of foreign life, +all touched with tender humor, and evidently by a strong and skilful +hand; and flowers, singly or in groups, full of a delicate fancy. In the +last volume of the series there were no more flowers; the scenes were of +snow-peaks and green hills, of wonderful lake-water, and boats with +awnings like the hood of a tilted cart; and the sky was that of Italy. + +"Oh, these are lovely, but why are there no more flowers?" said Bessie +thoughtlessly. + +"Dorothy had given up going out then," said her grandfather in a low, +strained voice. + +Bessie caught her breath as she turned the next page, and came on a +roughly washed-in mound of earth under an old wall where a white cross +was set. A sudden mist clouded her sight, and then a tear fell on the +paper. + +"That is where she was buried--at Bellagio on Lake Como," said Mr. +Fairfax, and moved away. + +Bessie continued to gaze at the closing page for several minutes without +seeing it; then she turned back the leaves preceding, and read them +again, as it were, in the sad light of the end. It was half a feint to +hide or overcome her emotion, for her imagination had figured to her +that last mournful journey. Her grandfather saw how she was +affected--saw the trembling of her hand as she paused upon the sketches +and the furtive winking away of her tears. Dear Bessie! smiles and tears +were so easy to her yet. If she had dared to yield to a natural impulse, +she would have shut the melancholy record and have run to comfort +him--would have clasped her hands round his arm and laid her cheek +against his shoulder, and have said, "Oh, poor grandpapa!" with most +genuine pity and sympathy. But he stood upon the hearth with his back to +the fire, erect, stiff as a ramrod, with gloom in his eyes and lips +compressed, and anything in the way of a caress would probably have +amazed more than it would have flattered him. Bessie therefore refrained +herself, and for ever so long there was silence in the room, except for +the ticking of the clock on the chimney-piece and the occasional +dropping of the ashes from the bars. At last she left looking at the +sketches and mechanically reverted to the photographs upon which Mr. +Fairfax came out of his reverie and spoke again. She was weary, but the +evening was now almost over. + +"I do not like those sun-pictures. They are not permanent, and a +water-color drawing is more pleasing to begin with. You can draw a +little, Elizabeth? Have you any sketches about Caen or Bayeux?" + +Bessie modestly said that she had, and went to bring them; school-girl +fashion, she wished to exhibit her work, and to hear that the money +spent on her neglected education had not been all spent in vain. Her +grandfather was graciously inclined to commend her productions. He told +her that she had a nice touch, and that it was quite worth her while to +cultivate her talent. "It will add a great interest to your travels when +you have the chance of travelling," he said; "for, like life itself, +travelling has many blank spaces that a taste for sketching agreeably +fills up. Ten o'clock already? Yes--good-night." + + * * * * * + +The following morning Mr. Fairfax and Bessie walked to church together. +Along the road everybody acknowledged the squire with bow or curtsey, +and the little children stood respectfully at gaze as he passed. He +returned the civility of all by lifting a forefinger to his hat, though +he spoke to none, and Bessie was led to understand that he had the +confidence of his people, and that he probably deserved it. For a sign +that there was no bitterness in his own feelings, each token of regard +was noted by her with satisfaction. + +At the lodge Colonel and Mrs. Stokes joined them, and Mrs. Stokes's +bright eyes frankly appreciated the elegant simplicity of Bessie's +attire, her chip bonnet and daisies, her dress of French spun silk, +white and violet striped, and perfectly fitting Paris gloves. She nodded +meaningly to Bessie, and Bessie smiled back her full comprehension that +the survey was satisfactory and pleasing. + +Some old customs still prevailed at Kirkham. The humble congregation was +settled in church before the squire entered his red-curtained pew, and +sat quiet after sermon until the squire went out. Bessie's thoughts +roved often during the service. Mr. Forbes read apace, and the clerk +sang out the responses like an echo with no time to lose. There had been +a death in the village during the past week, and the event was now +commemorated by a dirge in which the children's shrill treble was +supported by the majority of the congregation. The sermon also took up +the moral of life and death. It was short and pithy; perhaps it was +familiar, and none the less useful for that. Mr. Forbes was not +concerned to lead his people into new ways; he believed the old were +better. Work and pray, fear God and keep His commandments, love your +neighbor, and meddle not with those who are given to change,--these were +his cardinal points, from which he brought to bear on their consciences +much powerful doctrine and purifying precept. He was a man of high +courage and robust faith, who practised what he preached, and bore that +cheerful countenance which is a sign of a heart in prosperity. + +After service Colonel and Mrs. Stokes walked home with Mr. Fairfax and +Bessie, lunched at Abbotsmead, and lounged about the garden afterward. +This was an institution. Sunday is long in country houses, and good +neighbors help one another to get rid of it. The Stokes's boys came in +the afternoon, to Bessie's great joy; they made a noisy playground of +the garden, and behaved just like Jack and Tom and Willie Carnegie, +kicking up their heels and laughing at nothing. + +"There are no more gooseberries," cried their mother, catching the +younger of the two, a bluff copy of herself, and offering him to Bessie +to kiss. Bessie kissed him heartily. "You are fond of children, I can +see," said her new friend. + +"I like a houseful! Oh, when have I had a nice kiss at a boy's hard, +round cheeks? Not for years! years! I have five little brothers and two +sisters at home." + +Mrs. Stokes regarded Bessie with a touched surprise, but she asked no +questions; she knew her story in a general inaccurate way. The boy gazed +in her face with a pretty lovingness, rubbed his nose suddenly against +hers, wrestled himself out of her embrace, and ran away. "When you feel +as if you want a good kiss, come to my house," said his mother, her blue +eyes shining tenderly. "It must be dreadful to miss little children when +you have lived with them. I could not bear it. Abbotsmead always looks +to me like a great dull splendid prison." + +"My grandfather makes it as pleasant to me as he can; I don't repine," +said Bessie quickly. "He has given me a beautiful little filly to ride, +but she is not quite trained yet; and I shall beg him to let me have a +companionable dog; I love a dog." + +The church-bells began to ring for afternoon service. Mrs. Stokes shook +her head at Bessie's query: nobody ever went, she said, but servants and +poor people. Evening service there was none, and Mr. Forbes dined with +the squire; that also was an institution. The gentlemen talked of +parochial matters, and Bessie, wisely inferring that they could talk +more freely in her absence, left them to themselves and retreated to her +private parlor, to read a little and dream a great deal of her friends +in the Forest. + +At dusk there was a loud jangling indoors and out, and Mrs. Betts +summoned her young lady down stairs. She met her grandfather and Mr. +Forbes issuing from the dining-room, and they passed together into the +hall, where the servants of the house stood on parade to receive their +pastor and master. They were assembled for prayers. Once a week, after +supper, this compliment was paid to the Almighty--a remnant of ancient +custom which the squire refused to alter or amend. When Bessie had +assisted at this ceremony she had gone through the whole duty of the +day, and her reflection on her experience since she came to Abbotsmead +was that life as a pageant must be dull--duller than life as a toil. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +_A DISCOVERY._ + + +While Bessie Fairfax was pronouncing the web of her fortunes dull, Fate +was spinning some mingled threads to throw into the pattern and give it +intricacy and liveliness. The next day Mrs. Stokes chaperoned her to +Norminster in quest of that blue bonnet. Mrs. Betts went also, and had a +world of shopping to help in on behalf of her young mistress. They drove +from the station first to the chief tailor's in High street, the +ladies' habitmaker, then to the fashionable hosier, the fashionable +haberdasher. By three o'clock Bessie felt herself flagging. What did she +want with so many fine clothes? she inquired of Mrs. Stokes with an air +of appeal. She was learning that to get up only one character in life as +a pageant involves weariness, labor, pains, and money. + +"You are going to stay at Brentwood," rejoined her chaperone +conclusively. + +"And is it so dull at Brentwood that dressing is a resource?" Bessie +demurred. + +"Wait and see. You will have pleasant occupation enough, I should think. +Most girls would call this an immense treat. But if you are really tired +we will go to Miss Jocund now. Mrs. Betts can choose ribbons and +gloves." + +Miss Jocund was a large-featured woman of a grave and wise countenance. +She read the newspaper in intervals of business, and was reading it now +with her glasses on. Lowering the paper, she recognized a favorite +customer in Mrs. Stokes, and laid the news by, but with reluctance. Duty +forbade, however, that this lady should be remitted to an assistant. + +"I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Jocund, but it is important--it is +about a bonnet," cried Mrs. Stokes gayly. "I have brought you Miss +Fairfax of Abbotsmead. I am sure you will make her something quite +lovely." + +Miss Jocund took off her glasses, and gave Bessie a deliberate, +discerning look-over. "Very happy, ma'am, indeed. Blue, of course?" she +said. Bessie acquiesced. "Any taste, any style?" the milliner further +queried. + +"Yes. Give me always simplicity and no imitations," was the +unhesitating, concise reply. + +"Miss Fairfax and I understand one another. Anything more to-day, +ladies?" Bessie and Mrs. Stokes considered for a moment, and then said +they would not detain Miss Jocund any longer from her newspaper. "Ah, +ladies! who can exist altogether on _chiffons_?" rejoined the milliner, +half apologetically. "I do love my _Times_--I call it my 'gentleman.' I +cannot live without my gentleman. Yes, ladies, he does smell of tobacco. +That is because he spends a day and night in the bar-parlor of the +Shakespeare Tavern before he visits me. So do evil communications +corrupt good manners. The door, Miss Lawson. Good-afternoon, ladies." + +"You must not judge of Miss Jocund as a milliner and nothing more," her +chaperone instructed Bessie when they had left the shop. "She is a lady +herself. Her father was Dr. Jocund, the best physician in Norminster +when you could find him sober. He died, and left his daughter with only +debts for a fortune; she turned milliner, and has paid every sixpence of +them." + +Where were they to go next? Bessie recollected that her uncle Laurence +lived in the vicinity of the minster, and that she had an errand to him +from her grandfather. She had undertaken it cheerfully, feeling that it +would be a pleasure to see her kind uncle Laurence again. There was a +warmth of geniality about him that was absent from her uncle Frederick +and her grandfather, and she had decided that if she was to have any +friend amongst her kinsfolk, her uncle Laurence would be that friend. +She was sure that her father, whom she barely knew, had been most like +him. + +It was not far to Minster Court, and they directed their steps that way. +The streets of Norminster still preserve much of their picturesque +antiquity, but they are dull, undeniably dull, except on the occasion of +assizes, races, fairs, and the annual assembling of the yeomanry and +militia. Elections are no more the saturnalia they used to be in the +good old times. Bessie was reminded of Bayeux and its sultry drowsiness +as they passed into the green purlieus of the minster and under a +low-browed archway into a spacious paved court, where the sun slept on +the red-brick backs of the old houses. Mr. Laurence Fairfax's door was +in the most remote corner, up a semi-circular flight of steps, guarded +on either side by an iron railing. + +As the two ladies approached the steps a young countrywoman came down +them, saying in a mingled strain of persuasion and threat, "Come, Master +Justus: if you don't come along this minute, I'll tell your granma." And +a naughty invisible voice made an answer with lisping defiance, "Well, +go, Sally, go. Be quick! go before your shoes wear out." + +Mrs. Stokes, rounding her pretty eyes and pretty mouth, cried softly, +"Oh, what a very rude little boy!" And the very rude little boy +appeared in sight, hustled coaxingly behind by the stout respectable +housekeeper of Mr. Laurence Fairfax. When he saw the strange ladies he +stood stock-still and gazed at them as bold as Hector, and they gazed at +him again in mute amazement--a cherub of four years old or thereabouts, +with big blue eyes and yellow curls. When he had satisfied himself with +gazing, he descended the steps and set off suddenly at a run for the +archway. The housekeeper had a flushed, uneasy smile on her face as she +recognized Mrs. Stokes--a smile of amused consternation, which the +little lady's shocked grimace provoked. Bessie herself laughed in +looking at her again, and the housekeeper rallied her composure enough +to say, "Oh, the self-will and naughtiness there is in boys, ma'am! But +you know it, having boys of your own!" + +"Too well, Mrs. Burrage, too well! Is Mr. Laurence Fairfax at home?" + +"I am sorry to say that he is not, ma'am. May I make bold to ask if the +young lady is Miss Fairfax from Abbotsmead, that was expected?" + +Bessie confessed to her identity, and while Mrs. Stokes wrote the name +of Miss Fairfax on one of her own visiting-cards (for Bessie was still +unprovided), Burrage begged, as an old servant of the house, to offer +her best wishes and to inquire after the health of the squire. They were +interrupted by that rude little boy, who came running back into the +court with Sally in pursuit. He was shouting too at the top of his +voice, and making its solemn echoes ring again. Burrage with sudden +gravity watched what would ensue. Capture ensued, and a second evasion +into the street. Burrage shook her head, as who would say that Sally's +riotous charge was far beyond her control--which indubitably he was--and +Bessie forgot her errand entirely. Whose was that little boy, the +picture of herself? Mrs. Stokes recovered her countenance. They turned +to go, and were halfway across the court when the housekeeper called +after them in haste: "Ladies, ladies! my master has come in by the +garden way, if you will be pleased to return?" and they returned, +neither of them by word or look affording to the other any intimation of +her profound reflections. + +Mr. Laurence Fairfax received his visitors with a frank welcome, and +bade Burrage bring them a cup of tea. Mrs. Stokes soon engaged him in +easy chat, but Bessie sat by in perplexed rumination, trying to +reconcile the existence of that little flaxen-haired boy with her +preconceived notions of her bachelor uncle. The view of him had let in a +light upon her future that pleased while it confused her. The reason it +pleased her she would discern as her thoughts cleared. At this moment +she was dazzled by a series of surprises. First, by the sight of that +cherub, and then by the order that reigned through this quaint and +narrow house where her learned kinsman lived. They had come up a winding +stair into a large, light hall, lined with books and peopled by marble +sages on pedestals, from which opened two doors--the one into a small +red parlor where the philosopher ate, the other into a long room looking +to the garden and the minster, furnished with the choicest collections +of his travelled youth. The "omnibus" of Canon Fournier used to be all +dusty disorder. Bessie's silence and her vagrant eyes misled her uncle +into the supposition that his old stones, old canvases, and ponderous +quartoes interested her curiosity, and noticing that they settled at +length, with an intelligent scrutiny, on some object beyond him, he +asked what it was, and moved to see. + +Nothing rich, nothing rare or ancient--only the tail and woolly +hind-quarters of a toy lamb extruded from the imperfectly closed door of +a cupboard below a bookcase. Instantly he jumped up and went to shut the +cupboard; but first he must open it to thrust in the lamb, and out it +tumbled bodily, and after it a wagon with red wheels and black-spotted +horses harnessed thereto. As he awkwardly restored them, Mrs. Stokes +never moved a muscle, but Bessie smiled irrepressibly and in her uncle's +face as he returned to his seat with a fine confusion blushing thereon. +At that moment Burrage came in with the tea. No doubt Mrs. Stokes was +equally astonished to see a nursery-cupboard in a philosopher's study, +but she could turn her discourse to circumstances with more skill than +her unworldly companion, and she resumed the thread of their interrupted +chat with perfect composure. Mr. Laurence Fairfax could not, however, +take her cue, and he rose with readiness at the first movement of the +ladies to go. He began to say to Bessie that she must make his house +her home when she wanted to come to Norminster, and that he should +always be glad of her company. Bessie thanked him, and as she looked up +in his benevolent face there was a pure friendliness in her eyes that he +responded to by a warm pressure of her hand. And as he closed the door +upon them he dismissed his sympathetic niece with a most kind and +kinsman-like nod. + +Mrs. Stokes began to laugh when they were clear of the house: "A pretty +discovery! Mr. Laurence Fairfax has a little playfellow: suppose he +should turn out to be a married man?" cried she under her breath. "So +that is the depth of his philosophy! My Arthur will be mightily amused." + +"What a darling little naughty boy that was!" whispered Bessie, also +laughing. "How I should like to have him at Abbotsmead! What fun it +would be!" + +"Mind, you don't mention him at Abbotsmead. Mr. Fairfax will be the last +to hear of him; the mother must be some unpresentable person. If Mr. +Laurence Fairfax is married, it will be so much the worse for you." + +"Nothing in the way of little Fairfax boys can be the worse for me," was +Bessie's airy, pleasant rejoinder. And she felt exhilarated as by a +sudden, sunshiny break in the cloudy monotony of her horizon. + +Mr. Laurence Fairfax returned to his study when he had parted with his +visitors, and there he found Burrage awaiting him. "Sir," she said with +a gravity befitting the occasion, "I must tell you that Master Justus +has been seen by those two ladies." + +"And Master Justus's pet lamb and cart and horses," quoth her master as +seriously. "You had thrown the toys into the cupboard too hastily, or +you had not fastened the door, and the lamb's legs stuck out. Miss +Fairfax made a note of them." + +"Ah, sir, if you would but let Mr. John Short speak before the story +gets round to your respected father the wrong way!" pleaded Burrage. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax did not answer her. She said no more, but shook her +head and went away, leaving him to his reflections, which were more +mischievous than the reflections of philosophers are commonly supposed +to be. + +Bessie returned to Kirkham a changed creature. Her hopefulness had +rallied to the front. Her mind was filled with blithe anticipations +founded on that dear little naughty boy and his incongruous cupboard of +playthings in her uncle's study. + +If there was a boy for heir to Abbotsmead, nobody would want her; she +might go back to the Forest. Secrets and mysteries always come out in +the end. She had sagacity enough to know that she must not speak of what +she had seen; if the little boy was openly to be spoken of, he would +have been named to her. But she might speculate about him as much as she +pleased in the recesses of her fancy. And oh what a comfort was that! + +Mr. Fairfax at dinner observed her revived animation, and asked for an +account of her doings in Norminster. Then, and not till then, did Bessie +recollect his message to her uncle Laurence, and penitently confessed +her forgetfulness, unable to confess the occasion of it. "It is of no +importance; I took the precaution of writing to him this afternoon," +said her grandfather dryly, and Bessie's confusion was doubled. She +thought he would never have any confidence in her again. Presently he +said, "This is the last evening we shall be alone for some time, +Elizabeth. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister Mary, whom you have seen, +will arrive to-morrow, and on Thursday you will go with me to Lady +Angleby's for a few nights. I trust you will be able to make a friend of +Miss Burleigh." + +To this long speech Bessie gave her attention and a submissive assent, +followed by a rather silly wish: "I wish it was to Lady Latimer's we +were going instead of to Lady Angleby's; I don't like Lady Angleby." + +"That does not much matter if you preserve the same measure of courtesy +toward her as if you did," rejoined her grandfather. "It is unnecessary +to announce your preferences and prejudices by word of mouth, and it +would be unpardonable to obtrude them by your behavior. It is not of +obligation that because she is a grand lady you should esteem her, but +it is of obligation that you should curtsey to her; you understand me? +Do not let your ironical humor mislead you into forgetting the first +principle of good manners--to render to all their due." Mr. Fairfax +also had read Pascal. + +Bessie's cheeks burned under this severe admonition, but she did not +attempt to extenuate her fault, and after a brief silence her +grandfather said, to make peace, "It is not impossible that your longing +to see Lady Latimer may be gratified. She still comes into Woldshire at +intervals, and she will take an interest in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +election." But Bessie felt too much put down to trust herself to speak +again, and the rest of the meal passed in a constrained quiet. + +This was not the way towards a friendly and affectionate understanding. +Nevertheless, Bessie was not so crushed as she would have been but for +the vision of that unexplained cherub who had usurped the regions of her +imagination. If the time present wearied her, she had gained a wide +outlook to a _beyond_ that was bright enough to dream of, to inspire her +with hope, and sustain her against oppression. Mr. Fairfax discerned +that she felt her bonds more easy--perhaps expecting the time when they +would be loosed. His conjectures for a reason why were grounded on the +confidential propensities of women, and the probability that Mrs. +Stokes, during their long _tete-a-tete_ that day, had divulged the plots +for her wooing and wedding. How far wide of the mark these conjectures +were he would learn by and by. Meanwhile, as the effect of the unknown +magic was to make her gayer, more confident, and more interested in +passing events, he was well pleased. His preference was for sweet +acquiescence in women, but, for an exception, he liked his granddaughter +best when she was least afraid of him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +_PRELIMINARIES._ + + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh met Bessie Fairfax again with a courteous vivacity +and an air of intimate acquaintance. If he was not very glad to see her +he affected gladness well, and Bessie's vivid blushes were all the +welcome that was necessary to delude the witnesses into a belief that +they already understood one another. He was perfectly satisfied +himself, and his sister Mary, who worshipped him, thought Bessie sweetly +modest and pretty. And her mind was at peace for the results. + +There was a dinner-party at Abbotsmead that evening. Colonel and Mrs. +Stokes came, and Mr. Forbes and his mother, who lived with him (for he +was unmarried), a most agreeable old lady. It was much like other +dinner-parties in the country. The guests were all of one mind on +politics and the paramount importance of the landed interest, which gave +a delightful unanimity to the conversation. The table was round, so that +Miss Fairfax did not appear conspicuous as the lady of the house, but +she was not for that the less critically observed. Happily, she was +unconscious of the ordeal she underwent. She looked lovely in the face, +but her dress was not the elaborate dress of the other ladies; it was +still her prize-day white muslin, high to the throat and long to the +wrists, with a red rose in her belt, and an antique Normandy gold cross +for her sole ornament. The cross was a gift from Madame Fournier. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh, being seated next to her, was most condescending in his +efforts to be entertaining, and Bessie was not quite so uneasy under his +affability as she had been on board the yacht. Mrs. Stokes, who had +heard much of the Tory candidate, but now met him for the first time, +regarded him with awe, impressed by his distinguished air and fine +manners. But Bessie was more diffident than impressed. She did not talk +much; everybody else was so willing to talk that it was enough for her +to look charming. Once or twice her grandfather glanced towards her, +wishing to hear her voice--which was a most tunable voice--in reply to +her magnificent neighbor, but Bessie sat in beaming, beautiful silence, +lending him her ears, and at intervals giving him a monosyllabic reply. +She might certainly have done worse. She might have spoken foolishly, or +she might have said what she occasionally thought in contradiction of +his solemn opinions. And surely this would have been unwise? Her silence +was pleasing, and he wished for nothing in her different from what she +seemed. He liked her youthfulness, and approved her simplicity as an +eminently teachable characteristic; and if she was not able greatly to +interest or amuse him, perhaps that was not from any fault or +deficiency in herself, but from circumstances over which she had no +control. An old love, a true love, unwillingly relinquished, is a +powerful rival. + +The whole of the following day was at his service to walk and talk with +Bessie if he and she pleased, but Bessie invited Miss Burleigh into her +private parlor and went into seclusion. That was after breakfast, and +Mr. Cecil made a tour of the stables with the squire, and saw Janey take +her morning gallop. Then he spoke in praise of Janey's mistress while on +board the Foam, and with all the enthusiasm at his command of his own +hopes. They had not become expectations yet. + +"It is uphill work with Elizabeth," said her grandfather. "She cares for +none of us here." + +"The harder to win the more constant to keep," replied the aspirant +suitor cheerfully. + +"I shall put no pressure on her. Here is your opportunity, and you must +rely on yourself. She has a heart for those who can reach it, but my +efforts have fallen short thus far." This was not what the squire had +once thought to say. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh did not admire gushing, demonstrative women, and a +gushing wife would have wearied him inexpressibly. He felt an attraction +in Bessie's aloofness, and said again, "She is worth the pains she will +cost to win: a few years will mature her fine intelligence and make of +her a perfect companion. I admire her courageous simplicity; there is a +great deal in her character to work upon." + +"She is no cipher, certainly; if you are satisfied, I am," said Mr. +Fairfax resignedly. "Yet it is not flattering to think that she would +toss up her cap to go back to the Forest to-morrow." + +"Then she is loyal in affection to very worthy people. I have heard of +her Forest friends from Lady Latimer." + +"Lady Latimer has a great hold on Elizabeth's imagination. It would be a +good thing if she were to pay a visit to Hartwell; she might give her +young devotee some valuable instructions. Elizabeth is prejudiced +against me, and does not fall into her new condition so happily as I was +led to anticipate that she might." + +"She will wear to it. My sister Mary has an art of taming, and will +help her. I prefer her indifference to an undue elation: that would +argue a commonness of mind from which I imagine her to be quite free." + +"She has her own way of estimating us, and treats the state and luxury +of Abbotsmead as quite external to her. In her private thoughts, I fear, +she treats them as cumbrous lendings that she will throw off after a +season, and be gladly quit of their burden." + +"Better so than in the other extreme. A girl of heart and mind cannot be +expected to identify herself suddenly with the customs of a strange +rank. She was early trained in the habits of a simple household, but +from what I see there can have been nothing wanting of essential +refinement in Mrs. Carnegie. There is a crudeness in Miss Fairfax +yet--she is very young--but she will ripen sound and sweet to the core, +or I am much mistaken in the quality of the green fruit." + +The squire replied that he had no reason to believe his granddaughter +was otherwise than a good girl. And with that they left discussing her +and fell upon the election. Mr. Cecil Burleigh had a good courage for +the encounter, but he also had received intimations not to make too sure +of his success. The Fairfax influence had been so long in abeyance, so +long only a name in Norminster, that Mr. John Short began to quake the +moment he began to test it. Once upon a time Norminster had returned a +Fairfax as a matter of course, but for a generation its tendencies had +been more and more towards Liberalism, and at the last election it had +returned its old Whig member at the head of the poll, and in lieu of its +old Tory member a native lawyer, one Bradley, who professed Radicalism +on the hustings, but pruned his opinions in the House to the useful +working pattern of a supporter of the ministry. This prudent gentleman +was considered by a majority of his constituents not to have played +fair, and it was as against him, traitor and turncoat, that the old +Tories and moderate Conservatives were going to try to bring in Mr. +Cecil Burleigh. Both sides were prepared to spend money, and Norminster +was enjoying lively anticipations of a good time coming. + +While the gentlemen were thus discoursing to and fro the terrace under +the library window, Miss Burleigh in Bessie's parlor was instructing her +of her brother's political views. It is to be feared that Bessie was +less interested than the subject deserved, and also less interested in +the proprietor of the said views than his sister supposed her to be. She +listened respectfully, however, and did not answer very much at random, +considering that she was totally ignorant beforehand of all that was +being explained to her. At length she said, "I must begin to read the +newspapers. I know much better what happened in the days of Queen +Elizabeth than what has happened in my own lifetime;" and then Miss +Burleigh left politics, and began to speak of her brother's personal +ambition and personal qualities; to relate anecdotes of his signal +success at Eton and at Oxford; to expatiate on her own devotion to him, +and the great expectations founded by all his family upon his high +character and splendid abilities. She added that he had the finest +temper in the world, and that he was ardently affectionate. + +Bessie smiled at this. She believed that she knew where his ardent +affections were centred; and then she blushed at the tormenting +recollection of how she had interpreted his assiduities to herself +before making that discovery. Miss Burleigh saw the blush, seeming to +see nothing, and said softly, "I envy the woman who has to pass her life +with Cecil. I can imagine nothing more contenting than his society to +one he loves." + +Bessie's blush was perpetuated. She would have liked to mention Miss +Julia Gardiner, but she felt a restraining delicacy in speaking of what +had come to her knowledge in such a casual way, and more than ever +ashamed of her own ridiculous mistake. Suddenly she broke out with an +odd query, at the same moment clapping her hands to her traitorous +cheeks: "Do you ever blush at your own foolish fancies? Oh, how tiresome +it is to have a trick of blushing! I wish I could get over it." + +"It is a trick we get over quite early enough. The fancies girls blush +at are so innocent. I have had none of that pretty sort for a long +while." + +Miss Burleigh looked sympathetic and amused. Bessie was silent for a few +minutes and full of thought. Presently, in a musing, meditative voice, +she said, "Ambition! I suppose all men who have force enough to do great +things long for an opportunity to do them; and that we call ambition. +Harry Musgrave is ambitious. He is going to be a lawyer. What can a +famous lawyer become?" + +"Lord chancellor, the highest civil dignity under the Crown." + +"Then I shall set my mind on seeing Harry lord chancellor," cried Bessie +with bold conclusion. + +"And when he retires from office, though he may have held it for ever so +short a time, he will have a pension of five thousand a year." + +"How pleasant! What a grateful country! Then he will be able to buy +Brook and spend his holidays there. Dear old Harry! We were like brother +and sister once, and I feel as if I had a right to be proud of him, as +you are of your brother Cecil. Women have no chance of being ambitious +on their own account, have they?" + +"Oh yes. Women are as ambitious of rank, riches, and power as men are; +and some are ambitious of doing what they imagine to be great deeds. You +will probably meet one at Brentwood, a most beautiful lady she is--a +Mrs. Chiverton." + +Bessie's countenance flashed: "She was a Miss Hiloe, was she not--Ada +Hiloe? I knew her. She was at Madame Fournier's--she and a younger +sister--during my first year there." + +"Then you will be glad to meet again. She was married in Paris only the +other day, and has come into Woldshire a bride. They say she is showing +herself a prodigy of benevolence round her husband's magnificent seat +already: she married him that she might have the power to do good with +his immense wealth. There must always be some self-sacrifice in a lofty +ambition, but hers is a sacrifice that few women could endure to pay." + +Bessie held her peace. She had been instructed how all but impossible it +is to live in the world and be absolutely truthful; and what perplexed +her in this new character of her old school-fellow she therefore +supposed to be the veil of glamour which the world requires to have +thrown over an ugly, naked truth. + +About eleven o'clock the two young ladies walked out across the park +towards the lodge, to pay a visit to Mrs. Stokes. Then they walked on to +the village, and home again by the mill. The morning seemed long drawn +out. Then followed luncheon, and after it Mr. Cecil Burleigh drove in an +open carriage with Bessie and his sister to Hartwell. The afternoon was +very clear and pleasant, and the scenery sufficiently varied. On the +road Bessie learnt that Hartwell was the early home of Lady Latimer, and +still the residence of her bachelor brother and two maiden sisters. + +The very name of Lady Latimer acted like a spell on Bessie. She had been +rather silent and reserved until she heard it, and then all at once she +roused up into a vivid interest. Mr. Cecil Burleigh studied her more +attentively than he had done hitherto. Miss Burleigh said, "Lady Latimer +is another of our ambitious women. Miss Fairfax fancies women can have +no ambition on their own account, Cecil. I have been telling her of Mrs. +Chiverton." + +"And what does Miss Fairfax say of Mrs. Chiverton's ambition?" asked Mr. +Cecil Burleigh. + +"Nothing," rejoined Bessie. But her delicate lip and nostril expressed a +great deal. + +The man of the world preferred her reticence to the wisest speech. He +mused for several minutes before he spoke again himself. Then he gave +air to some of his reflections: "Lady Latimer has great qualities. Her +marriage was the blunder of her youth. Her girlish imagination was +dazzled by the name of a lord and the splendor of Umpleby. It remains to +be considered that she was not one of the melting sort, and that she +made her life noble." + +Here Miss Burleigh took up the story: "That is true. But she would have +made it more noble if she had been faithful to her first love--to your +grandfather, Miss Fairfax." + +Bessie colored. "Oh, were they fond of each other when they were young?" +she asked wondering. + +"Your grandfather was devoted to her. He had just succeeded to +Abbotsmead. All the world thought it would be a match, and great +promotion for her too, when she met Lord Latimer. He was sixty and she +was nineteen, and they lived together thirty-seven years, for he +survived into quite extreme old age." + +"And she had no children, and my grandfather married somebody else?" +said Bessie with a plaintive fall in her voice. + +"She had no children, and your grandfather married somebody else. Lady +Latimer was a most excellent wife to her old tyrant." + +Bessie looked sorrowful: "Was he a tyrant? I wonder whether she ever +pities herself for the love she threw away? She is quite alone--she +would give anything that people should love her now, I have heard them +say in the Forest." + +"That is the revenge that slighted love so often takes. But she must +have satisfaction in her life too. She was always more proud than +tender, except perhaps to her friend, Dorothy Fairfax. You have heard of +your great-aunt Dorothy?" + +"Yes. I have succeeded to her rooms, to her books. My grandfather says I +remind him of her." + +"Dorothy Fairfax never forgave Lady Latimer. They had been familiar +friends, and there was a double separation. Oh, it is quite a romance! +My aunt, Lady Angleby, could tell you all about it, for she was quite +one with them at Abbotsmead and Hartwell in those days; indeed, the +intimacy has never been interrupted. And you know Lady Latimer--you +admire her?" + +"I used to admire her enthusiastically. I should like to see her again." + +After this there was silence until the drive ended at Hartwell. Bessie +was meditating on the glimpse she had got into the pathetic past of her +grandfather's life, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister were +meditating upon her. + +Hartwell was a modest brick house within a garden skirting the road. It +had a retired air, as of a poor gentleman's house whose slender fortunes +limit his tastes: Mr. Oliver Smith's fortunes were very slender, and he +shared them with two maiden sisters. The shrubs were well grown and the +grass was well kept, but there was no show of the gorgeous scentless +flowers which make the gardens of the wealthy so gay and splendid in +summer. Ivy clothed the walls, and old-fashioned flowers bloomed all +the year round in the borders, but it was not a very cheerful garden in +the afternoon. + +Two elderly ladies were pacing the lawn arm-in-arm, with straw hats +tilted over their noses, when the Abbotsmead carriage stopped at the +gate. They stood an instant to see whose it was, and then hurried +forward to welcome their visitors. + +"This is very kind, Mr. Cecil, very kind, Miss Mary; but you always are +kind in remembering old friends," said the elder, Miss Juliana, and then +was silent, gazing at Bessie. + +"This is Miss Fairfax," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. "Lady Latimer has no +doubt named her in her letters." + +"Ah! yes, yes--what am I dreaming about? Charlotte," turning to her +sister, "who is she like?" + +"She is like poor Dorothy," was the answer in a tremulous, solemn voice. +"What will Oliver say?" + +"How long is it since Lady Latimer saw you, my dear?" asked Miss +Juliana. + +"Three years. I have not been home to the Forest since I left it to go +to school in France." + +"Ah! Then that accounts for our sister not having mentioned to us your +wonderful resemblance to your great-aunt, Dorothy Fairfax. Three years +alter and refine a child's chubby face into a young woman's face." + +Miss Juliana seemed to be thrown into irretrievable confusion by +Bessie's apparition and her own memory. She was quite silent as she led +the way to the house, walking between Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister. +Miss Charlotte walked behind with Bessie, and remarked that she was +pleased to have a link of acquaintance with her already by means of Lady +Latimer. Bessie asked whether Lady Latimer was likely soon to come into +Woldshire. + +"We have not heard that she has any present intention of visiting us. +Her visits are few and far between," was the formal reply. + +"I wish she would. When I was a little girl she was my ideal of all that +is grand, gracious, and lovely," said Bessie. + +Bessie's little outbreak had done her good, had set her tongue at +liberty. Her self-consciousness was growing less obtrusive. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh explained to her the legal process of an election for a member +of Parliament, and Miss Burleigh sat by in satisfied silence, observing +the quick intelligence of her face and the flattered interest in her +brother's. At the park gates, Mr. Fairfax, returning from a visit to one +of his farmsteads where building was in progress, met the carriage and +got in. His first question was what Mr. Oliver Smith had said about the +coming election, and whether he would be in Norminster the following +day. + +The news about Buller troubled him no little, to judge by his +countenance, but he did not say much beyond an exclamation that they +would carry the contest through, let it cost what it might. "We have +been looking forward to this contest ever since Bradley was returned +five years ago; we will not be so faint-hearted as to yield without a +battle. If we are defeated again, we may count Norminster lost to the +Conservative interest." + +"Oh, don't talk of defeat! We shall be far more likely to win if we +refuse to contemplate the possibility of defeat," cried Bessie with +girlish vivacity. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh laughed and said, "Miss Fairfax is right. She will +wear my colors and I will adopt her logic, and, ostrich-like, refuse to +see the perils that threaten me." + +"No, no," remonstrated Bessie casting off her shy reserve under +encouragement. "So far from hiding your face, you must make it familiar +in every street in Norminster. You must seek if you would find, and ask +if you would have. I would. I should hate to be beaten by my own +neglect, worse than by my rival." + +Mr. Fairfax was electrified at this brusque assertion of her sentiments +by his granddaughter. Her audacity seemed at least equal to her shyness. +"Very good advice, Elizabeth; make him follow it," said he dryly. + +"We will give him no rest when we have him at Brentwood," added Miss +Burleigh. "But though he is so cool about it, I believe he is dreadfully +in earnest. Are you not, Cecil?" + +"I will not be beaten by my own neglect," was his rejoinder, with a +glance at Bessie, blushing beautifully. + +They did not relapse into constraint any more that day. There was no +addition to the company at dinner, and the evening being genially warm, +they enjoyed it in the garden. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Miss Fairfax even +strolled as far as the ruins in the park, and on the way he enlightened +her respecting some of his opinions, tastes, and prejudices. She heard +him attentively, and found him very instructive. His clever conversation +was a compliment to which, as a bright girl, she was not insensible. His +sister had detailed to him her behavior on her introduction to Lady +Angleby, and had deplored her lively sense of the ridiculous. Miss +Burleigh had the art of taming that her brother credited her with, and +Elizabeth was already at ease and happy with her--free to be herself, as +she felt, and not always on guard and measuring her words; and the more +of her character that she revealed, the better Miss Burleigh liked her. +Her gayety of temper was very attractive when it was kept within due +bounds, and she had a most sweet docility of tractableness when +approached with caution. At the close of the evening she retired to her +white parlor with a rather exalted feeling of responsibility, having +promised, at Mr. Cecil Burleigh's instigation, to study certain essays +of Lord Bacon on government and seditions in states for the informing of +her mind. She took the volume down from Dorothy Fairfax's bookshelf, and +laid it on her table for a reminder. Miss Burleigh saw it there in the +morning. + +"Ah, dear Cecil! He will try to make you very wise and learned," said +she, nodding her head and smiling significantly. "But never mind: he +waltzes to perfection, and delights in a ball, no man more." + +"Does he?" cried Bessie, amused and laughing. "That potent, grave, and +reverend signor can condescend, then, to frivolities! Oh, when shall we +have a ball that I may waltz with him?" + +"Soon, if all go successfully at the election. Lady Angleby will give a +ball if Cecil win and you ask her." + +"_I_ ask her! But I should never dare." + +"She will be only too glad of the opportunity, and you may dare anything +with her when she is pleased. She has always been dear Cecil's fast +friend, and his triumph will be hers. She will want to celebrate it +joyously, and nothing is really so joyous as a good dance. We will have +a good dance." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +_BESSIE SHOWS CHARACTER._ + + +At breakfast, Mr. Fairfax handed a letter to Bessie. "From home, from my +mother," said she in a glad undertone, and instantly, without apology, +opened and read it. Mr. Cecil Burleigh took a furtive observation of her +while she was thus occupied. What a good countenance she had! how the +slight emotion of her lips and the lustrous shining under her dark +eyelashes enhanced her beauty! It was a letter to make her happy, to +give her a light heart to go to Brentwood with. Mrs. Carnegie was always +sympathetic, cheerful, and loving in her letters. She encouraged her +dear Bessie to reconcile herself to absence, and attach herself to her +new home by cultivating all its sources of interest, and especially the +affection of her grandfather. She gave her much tender, reasonable +advice for her guidance, and she gave her good news: they were all well +at home and at Brook, and Harry Musgrave had come out in honors at +Oxford. The sunshine of pure content irradiated Bessie's face. She +looked up; she wanted to communicate her joy. Her grandfather looked up +at the same moment, and their eyes met. + +"Would you like to read it? It is from my mother," she said, holding out +the letter with an impulse to be good to him. + +"I can trust you with your correspondence, Elizabeth," was his reply. + +She drew back her hand quickly, and laid down the letter by her plate. +She sipped her tea, her throat aching, her eyes swimming. The squire +began to talk rather fast and loud, and in a few minutes, the meal being +over, he pushed away his chair and left the room. + +"The train we go into Norminster by reaches Mitford Junction at ten +thirty-five," observed Mr. Cecil Burleigh. + +Bessie rose and vanished with a mutinous air, which made him laugh and +whisper to his sister, as she disappeared, that the young lady had a +rare spirit. Mr. Fairfax was in the hall. She went swiftly up to him, +and laying a hand on his arm, said, in a quivering, resolute voice, +"Read my letter, grandpapa. If you will not recognize those I have the +best right to love, we shall be strangers always, you and I." + +"Come up stairs: I will read your letter," said the old man shortly, and +he mounted to her parlor, she still keeping her hold on his arm. He +stood at her table and read it, and laid it down without a word, but, +glancing aside at her pleasing face, he was moved to kiss her, and then +promptly effected his escape from her tyranny. He was not displeased, +and Bessie was triumphant. + +"Now we can begin to be friends," she cried softly, clapping her hands. +"I refuse to be frightened. I shall always tell him my news, and make +him listen. If he is sarcastic, I won't care. He will respect me if I +assert my right to be respected, and maintain that my father and mother +at Beechhurst have the first and best claim on my love. He shall not +recognize them as belonging only to my past life; he shall acknowledge +them as belonging to me always. And Harry too!" + +These strong resolutions arising out of that letter from the Forest +exhilarated Bessie exceedingly. There was perhaps more guile in her than +was manifest on slight acquaintance, but it was the guile of a wise, +warm heart. All trace of emotion had passed away when she came down +stairs, and when her grandfather, assisting her into the carriage, +squeezed her fingers confidentially, her new, all-pervading sense of +happiness was confirmed and established. And the courage that happiness +inspires was hers too. + +At Mitford Junction, Colonel and Mrs. Stokes and Mr. Oliver Smith joined +their party, and they travelled to Norminster together. The old city was +going quietly about its business much as usual when they drove through +the streets to the "George," where Mr. Cecil Burleigh was to meet his +committee and address the electors out of the big middle bow-window. +Miss Jocund's shop was nearly opposite to the inn, and thither the +ladies at once adjourned, that Bessie might assume her blue bonnet. The +others were already handsomely provided. Miss Jocund was quite at +liberty to attend to them at this early hour of the day--her "gentleman" +had not come in yet--and she conducted them to her show-room over the +shop with the complacent alacrity of a milliner confident that she is +about to give supreme satisfaction. And indeed Mrs. Stokes cried out +with rapture, the instant the bonnet filled her eye, that it was "A +sweet little bonnet--blue crape and white marabouts!" + +Bessie smiled most becomingly as it was tried on, and blushed at herself +in the glass. "But a shower of rain will spoil it," she objected, +nodding the downy white feathers that topped the brim. She was +proceeding philosophically to tie the glossy broad strings in a bow +under her round chin when Miss Jocund stepped hastily to the rescue, and +Mrs. Betts entered with a curtsey, and a blue silk slip on her arm. +"What next?" Bessie demanded of the waiting-woman in rosy consternation. + +"I am afraid we must trouble you, Miss Fairfax, but not much, I hope," +insinuated Miss Jocund with a queer, deprecating humility. "There is a +good half hour to spare. Since Eve put on a little cool foliage, female +dress has developed so extensively that it is necessary to try some +ladies on six times to avoid a misfit. But your figure is perfectly +proportioned, and I resolved, for once, to chance it on my knowledge of +anatomy, supplemented by an embroidered dress from your wardrobe. If you +_will_ be _so_ kind: a stitch here and a stitch there, and my delightful +duty is accomplished." + +Miss Jocund's speeches had always a touch of mockery, and Bessie, being +in excellent spirits, laughed good-humoredly, but denied her request. +"No, no," said she, "I will not be so kind. Your lovely blue bonnet +would be thrown away if I did not look pleasant under it, and how could +I look pleasant after the painful ordeal of trying on?" + +Mrs. Stokes, with raised eyebrows, was about to remonstrate, Mrs. Betts, +with flushed dismay, was about to argue, when Miss Jocund interposed; +she entered into the young lady's sentiments: "Miss Fairfax has spoken, +and Miss Fairfax is right. A pleasant look is the glory of a woman's +face, and without a pleasant look, if I were a single gentleman a woman +might wear a coal-scuttle for me." + +At this crisis there occurred a scuffle and commotion on the stairs, and +Bessie recognized a voice she had heard elsewhere--a loud, ineffectual +voice--pleading, "Master Justus, Master Justus, you are not to go to +your granny in the show-room;" and in Master Justus bounced--lovely, +delicious, in the whitest of frilly pinafores and most boisterous of +naughty humors. + +Bessie Fairfax stooped down and opened her arms with rapturous +invitation. "Come, oh, you bonnie boy!" and she caught him up, shook +him, kissed him, tickled him, with an exuberant fun that he evidently +shared, and frantically retaliated by pulling down her hair. + +This was very agreeable to Bessie, but Miss Jocund looked like an angry +sphinx, and as the defeated nurse appeared she said with suppressed +excitement, "Sally, how often must I warn you to keep the boy out of the +show-room? Carry him away." The flaxen cherub was born off kicking and +howling; Bessie looked as if she were being punished herself, Mrs. +Stokes stood confounded, Mrs. Betts turned red. Only Miss Burleigh +seemed unaffected, and inquired simply whose that little boy was. +"_Mine_, ma'am," replied the milliner with an emphasis that forbade +further question. But Miss Burleigh's reflective powers were awakened. + +Mrs. Betts, that woman of resources and experience, standing with the +blue silk slip half dropt on the Scotch carpet at her feet, reverted to +the interrupted business of the hour as if there had been no break. "And +if, when it comes to dressing this evening at Lady Angleby's, there's +not a thing that fits?" she bitterly suggested. + +"I will answer for it that everything fits," said Miss Jocund, +recovering herself with more effort. "I have worked on true principles. +But"--with a persuasive inclination towards Bessie--"if Miss Fairfax +will condescend to inspect my productions, she will gratify me and +herself also." + +As she spoke Miss Jocund threw open the door of an adjoining room, where +the said productions were elaborately laid out, and Mrs. Stokes ran in +to have the first view. Miss Burleigh followed. Bessie, with a rather +unworthy distrust, refused to advance beyond the doorway; but, looking +in, she beheld clouds upon clouds of blue and white puffery, tulle and +tarletan, and shining breadths of silk of the same delicate hues, with +fans, gloves, bows, wreaths, shoes, ribbons, sashes, laces--a portentous +confusion. After a few seconds of disturbed contemplation, during which +she was lending an ear to the remote shrieks of that darling boy, she +said--and surely it was provoking!--"The half would be better than the +whole. I am sorry for you, Mrs. Betts, if you are to have all those +works of art on your mind till they are worn out." + +"Indeed, miss, if you don't show more feeling, my mind will give way," +retorted Mrs. Betts. "It is the first time in my long experience that +ever a young lady so set me at defiance as to refuse to try on new +dresses. And all one's credit at stake upon her appearance! In a great +house like Brentwood, too!" + +Those piercing cries continued to rise higher and higher. Miss Jocund, +with a vexed exclamation, dropped some piece of finery on which she was +beginning to dilate, and vanished by another door. In a minute the noise +was redoubled with a passionate intensity. Bessie's eyes filled; she +knew that old-fashioned discipline was being administered, and her heart +ached dreadfully. She even offered to rush to the rescue, but Mrs. Betts +intercepted her with a stern "Better let me do up your hair, miss," +while Mrs. Stokes, moved by sympathetic tenderness, whispered, "Stop +your ears; it is necessary, _quite_ necessary, now and then, I assure +you." Oh, did not Bessie know? had she not little brothers? When there +was silence, Miss Jocund returned, and without allusion to the nursery +tragedy resumed her task of displaying the fruits of her toils. + +Bessie, with a yearning sigh, composed herself, laid hands on her blue +bonnet while nobody was observing, and moved away to an open window in +the show-room that commanded the street. Deliberately she tied the +strings in the fashion that pleased her, and seated herself to look out +where a few men and boys were collecting on the edge of the pavement to +await the appearance of the Conservative candidate at the bow-window +over the portico of the "George." Presently, Mrs. Stokes joined her, +shaking her head, and saying with demure rebuke, "You naughty girl! And +this is all you care for pretty things?" Miss Burleigh, with more real +seriousness, hoped that the pretty things would be right. Miss Jocund +came forward with a natural professional anxiety to hear their opinions, +and when she saw the bonnet-strings tied clasped her hands in acute +regret, but said nothing. Mrs. Betts, a picture of injured virtue, held +herself aloof beyond the sea of finery, gazing across it at her +insensible young mistress with eyes of mournful indignation. Bessie felt +herself the object of general misunderstanding and reproach, and was +stirred up to extenuate her untoward behavior in a strain of mischievous +sarcasm. + +"Don't look so distressed, all of you," she pleaded. "How can I interest +myself to-day in anything but Mr. Cecil Burleigh's address to the +electors of Norminster and my own new bonnet?" + +"_That_ is very becoming, for a consolation," said the milliner with an +affronted air. + +"I think it is," rejoined Bessie coolly. "And if you will not bedizen me +with artificial flowers, and will exonerate me from wearing dresses that +crackle, I shall be happy. Did you not promise to give me simplicity and +no imitations, Miss Jocund?" + +"I cannot deny it, Miss Fairfax. Natural leaves and flowers are my +taste, and graceful soft outlines of drapery; but when it is the mode to +wear tall wreaths of painted calico, and to be bustled off in twenty +yards of stiff, cheap tarletan, most ladies conform to the mode, on the +axiom that they might as well be out of the world as out of the fashion. +And nothing comes up so ugly and outrageous but there are some who will +have it in the very extreme." + +"I am quite aware of the pains many women take to be displeasing, but I +thought you understood that was not 'my style, my taste,'" said Bessie, +quoting the milliner's curt query at their first interview. + +"I understand now, Miss Fairfax, that there are things here you would +rather be without. I will not pack up the tarletan skirts and artificial +flowers. With the two morning silks and two dinner silks, and the tulle +over the blue slip for a possible dance, perhaps you will be able to go +through your visit to Brentwood?" + +"I trust so," said Bessie. "But if I need anything more I will write to +you." + +There was an odd pause of silence, in which Bessie looked out of the +window, and the rest looked at one another with a furtive, defeated, +amused acknowledgment that this young lady, so ignorant of the world, +knew how to take her own part, and would not be controlled in the +exercise of her senses by any irregular, usurped authority. Mrs. Betts +saw her day-dream of perquisites vanish. Both she and Miss Jocund had +got their lesson, and they remembered it. + +A welcome interruption came with the sound of swift wheels and +high-stepping horses in the street, and the ladies pressed forward to +see. "Lady Angleby's carriage," said Miss Burleigh as it whirled past +and drew up at the "George." She was now in haste to be gone and join +her aunt, but Bessie lingered at the window to witness the great lady's +reception by the gentlemen who came out of the inn to meet her. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh was foremost, and Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Oliver Smith, Mr. +Forbes, and several more, yet strangers to Bessie, supported him. One +who bowed with extreme deference she recognized, at a second glance, as +Mr. John Short, her grandfather's companion on his memorable visit to +Beechhurst, which resulted in her severance from that dear home of her +childhood. The sight of him brought back some vexed recollections, but +she sighed and shook them off, and on Miss Burleigh's again inviting her +to come away to the "George" to Lady Angleby, she rose and followed her. + +"Look pleasant," said Miss Jocund, standing by the door as Bessie went +out, and Bessie laughed and was obedient. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +_A QUIET POLICY._ + + +Lady Angleby received Bessie Fairfax with a gracious affability, and if +Bessie had desired to avail herself of the privilege there was a cheek +offered her to kiss, but she did not appear to see it. Her mind was +running on that boy, and her countenance was blithe as sunshine. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax came forward to shake hands, and Mr. John Short +respectfully claimed her acquaintance. They were in a smaller room, +adjoining the committee-room, where the majority of the gentlemen had +assembled, and Bessie said to Miss Burleigh, "We should see and hear +better in Miss Jocund's window;" but Miss Burleigh showed her that Miss +Jocund's window was already filled, and that the gathering on the +pavement was increasing. Soon after twelve it increased fast, with the +workmen halting during a few minutes of their hour's release for dinner, +but it never became a crowd, and the affair was much flatter than Bessie +had expected. The new candidate was introduced by Mr. Oliver Smith, who +spoke very briefly, and then made way for the candidate himself. Bessie +could not see Mr. Cecil Burleigh, nor hear his words, but she observed +that he was listened to, and jeeringly questioned only twice, and on +both occasions his answer was received with cheers. + +"You will read his speech in the _Norminster Gazette_ on Saturday, or he +will tell you the substance of it," Miss Burleigh said. "Extremes meet +in politics as in other things, and much of Cecil's creed will suit the +root-and-branch men as well as the fanatics of his own party." Bessie +wondered a little, but said nothing; she had thought moderation Mr. +Cecil Burleigh's characteristic. + +A school of young ladies passed without difficulty behind the scanty +throng, and five minutes after the speaking was over the street was +empty. + +"Buller was not there," said Mr. John Short to Mr. Oliver Smith, and +from the absence of mirth amongst the gentlemen, Bessie conjectured that +there was a general sense of failure and disappointment. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh preserved his dignified composure, and came up to +Bessie, who said, "This is only the beginning?" + +"Only the beginning--the real work is all to do," said he, and entered +into a low-toned exposition thereof quite calmly. + +It was at this moment that Mr. John Short, happening to cast an eye upon +the two, received one of those happy inspirations that visit in +emergency men of superior resources and varied experience. At Lady +Angleby's behest the pretty ladies in blue bonnets set out to shop, pay +calls in the town, and show their colors, and the agent attached himself +to the party. They all left the "George" together, but it was not long +before they divided, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Bessie, having nowhere +particular where they wished to go, wandered towards the minster. Mr. +John Short, without considering whether his company might be acceptable, +adhered to them, and at length boldly suggested that they were not far +from the thoroughfare in which the "Red Lion" was situated, and that a +word from the aspirant candidate to Buller might not be thrown away. + +It was the hour of the afternoon when the host of the "Red Lion" sat at +the receipt of news and custom, smoking his pipe after dinner in the +shade of an old elm tree by his own door. He was a burly man, with a +becoming sense of his importance and weight in the world, and as honest +a desire to do his share in mending it as his betters. He was not to be +bought by any of the usual methods of electioneering sale and barter, +but he had a soft place in his heart that Mr. John Short knew of, and +was not therefore to be relinquished as altogether invulnerable. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh could not affect the jocose and familiar, but perhaps +his plain way of address was a higher compliment to the publican's +understanding. "Is it true, Buller, that you balance about voting again +for Bradley? Think of it, and see if you cannot return to the old flag," +was all he said. + +"Sir, I mean to think of it," replied Buller with equal directness. "I'm +pleased with what I hear of you, and I like a gentleman, but Bradley +explains his puzzling conduct very plausibly: it is no use being +factious and hindering business in the House, as he says. And it can't +be denied that there's Tory members in the House as factious as any of +them pestilent Radical chaps that get up strikes out of doors. I'm not +saying that you would be one of them, sir." + +"I hope not. For no party considerations would I hinder any advance or +reform that I believe to be for the good of the country." + +"I am glad to hear it, sir; you would be what we call an independent +member. My opinion is, sir, that sound progress feels its way and takes +one step at a time, and if it tries to go too fast it overleaps itself." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was not prepared for political disquisition on the +pavement in front of the "Red Lion," but he pondered an instant on Mr. +Buller's platitude as if it were a new revelation, and then said with +quiet cordiality, "Well, think of it, and if you decide to give me your +support, it will be the more valuable as being given on conviction. +Good-day to you, Buller." + +The publican had risen, and laid aside his pipe. "Good-day to you, sir," +said he, and as Bessie inclined her fair head to him also, he bowed with +more confusion and pleasure than could have been expected from the host +of a popular tavern. + +Mr. John Short lingered behind, and as the beautiful young people +retired out of hearing, admiringly watched by the publican, the lawyer +plied his insinuating craft and whispered, "You are always a +good-natured man, Buller. Look at those two--_No election, no wedding_." + +"You don't say so!" ejaculated Buller with kindly sympathy in his voice. +"A pretty pair, indeed, to run in a curricle! I should think now his +word's as good as his bond--eh? Egad, then, I'll give 'em a plumper!" + +The agent shook hands with him on it delighted. "You are a man of your +word too, Buller. I thank you," he said with fervor, and felt that this +form of bribery and corruption had many excuses besides its success. He +did not intend to divulge by what means the innkeeper's pledge had been +obtained, lest his chief might not quite like it, and with a few nods, +becks, and half-words he ensured Buller's silence on the delicate family +arrangement that he had so prematurely confided to his ear. And then he +went back to the "George" with the approving conscience of an agent who +has done his master good secret service without risking any impeachment +of his honor. He fully expected that time would make his words true. +Unless in that confidence, Mr. Short was not the man to have spoken +them, even to win an election. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Miss Fairfax strolled a little farther, and then +retraced their steps to the minster, and went in to hear the anthem. +Presently appeared in the distance Mr. Fairfax and Miss Burleigh, and +when the music was over signed to them to come away. Lady Angleby was +waiting in the carriage at the great south door to take them home, and +in the beautiful light of the declining afternoon they drove out of the +town to Brentwood--a big, square, convenient old house, surrounded by a +pleasant garden divided from the high-road by a belt of trees. + +Mrs. Betts was already installed in the chamber allotted to her young +lady, and had spread out the pretty new clothes she was to wear. She was +deeply serious, and not disposed to say much after her morning's lesson. +Bessie had apparently dismissed the recollection of it. She came in all +good-humor and cheerfulness. She hummed a soft little tune, and for the +first time submitted patiently to the assiduities of the experienced +waiting-woman. Mrs. Betts did not fail to make her own reflections +thereupon, and to interpret favorably Miss Fairfax's evidently happy +preoccupation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +_A DINNER AT BRENTWOOD._ + + +There was rejoicing at Brentwood that evening. All the guests staying in +the house were assembled in the drawing-room before dinner, when Mr. +Oliver Smith, who had retained quarters at the "George," walked in with +an appearance of high satisfaction, and immediately began to say, "I +bring you good news. Buller has made up his mind to do the right thing, +Burleigh, and give you a plumper. He hailed my cab as I was passing the +'Red Lion' on my road here, and told me his decision. Do you carry +witchcraft about with you?" + +"Buller could not resist the old name and the old colors. Miss Fairfax +is my witchcraft," said Mr. Cecil Burleigh with a profound bow to +Bessie, in gay acknowledgment of her unconscious services. + +Bessie blushed with pleasure, and said, "Indeed, I never opened my +mouth." + +"Oh, charms work in silence," said Mr. Oliver Smith. + +Lady Angleby was delighted; Mr. Fairfax looked gratified, and gave his +granddaughter an approving nod. + +The next and last arrivals were Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton. Mr. Chiverton +was known to all present, but the bride was a stranger except to one or +two. She was attired in rich white silk--in full dress--so terribly +trying to the majority of women, and Bessie Fairfax's first thought on +seeing her again was how much less beautiful she was than in her simple +_percale_ dresses at school. She did not notice Bessie at once, but when +their eyes met and Bessie smiled, she ran to embrace her with expansive +cordiality. Bessie, her beaming comeliness notwithstanding, could assume +in an instant a touch-me-not air, and gave her hand only, though that +with a kind frankness; and then they sat down and talked of Caen. + +Mrs. Chiverton's report as a woman of extraordinary beauty and virtue +had preceded her into her husband's country, but to the general observer +Miss Fairfax was much more pleasing. She also wore full dress--white +relieved with blue--but she was also able to wear it with a grace; for +her arms were lovely, and all her contours fair, rounded, and dimpled, +while Mrs. Chiverton's tall frame, though very stately, was very bony, +and her little head and pale, classical face, her brown hair not +abundant, and eyes too cold and close together, with that expression of +intense pride which is a character in itself, required a taste +cultivated amidst statuary to appreciate. This taste Mr. Chiverton +possessed, and his wife satisfied it perfectly. + +Bessie looked at Mr. Chiverton with curiosity, and looked quickly away +again, retaining an impression of a cur-like face with a fixed sneer +upon it. He was not engaged in conversation at the time; he was +contemplating his handsome wife with critical admiration, as he might +have contemplated a new acquisition in his gallery of antique marbles. +In his eyes the little girl beside her was a mere golden-haired, rosy, +plump rustic, who served as a foil to his wife's Minerva-like beauty. + +Lady Angleby was great lady enough to have her own by-laws of etiquette +in her own house, and her nephew was assigned to take Miss Fairfax to +dinner. They sat side by side, and were wonderfully sociable at one end +of the table, with the hostess and Mr. Fairfax facing them at the other. +Besides the guests already introduced, there was one other gentleman, +very young--Sir Edward Lucas--whose privilege it was to escort Mrs. +Chiverton. Mr. Forbes gave his arm to Miss Burleigh. Mr. Chiverton and +Mr. Oliver Smith had no ladies: Lady Angleby liked a preponderance of +gentlemen at her entertainments. Everybody talked and was pleasant, and +Bessie Fairfax felt almost at ease, so fast does confidence grow in the +warm atmosphere of courtesy and kindness. When the ladies retired to the +drawing-room she was bidden to approach Lady Angleby's footstool, and +treated caressingly; while Mrs. Chiverton was allowed to converse on +philanthropic missions with Miss Burleigh, who yawned behind her fan and +marvelled at the splendor of the bride's jewels. + +In the dining-room conversation became more animated when the gentlemen +were left to themselves. Mr. Chiverton loved to take the lead. He had +said little during dinner, but now he began to talk with vivacity, and +was heard with the attention that must be paid to an old man possessed +of enormous wealth and the centre of great connexions. He was accustomed +to this deference, and cared perhaps for none other. He had a vast +contempt for his fellow-creatures, and was himself almost universally +detested. But he could bear it, sustained by the bitter tonic of his own +numerous aversions. One chief aversion was present at this moment in the +elegant person of Mr. Oliver Smith. Mr. Oliver Smith was called not too +strong in the head, but he was good, and possessed the irresistible +influence of goodness. Mr. Chiverton hated his mild tenacity. His own +temper was purely despotic. He had represented a division of the county +for several years, and had finally retired from Parliament in dudgeon at +the success of the Liberal party and policy. After some general remarks +on the approaching election, came up the problem of reconciling the +quarrel between labor and capital, then already growing to such +proportions that the whole community, alarmed, foresaw that it might +have ere long to suffer with the disputants. The immediate cause of the +reference was the fact of a great landowner named Gifford having asked +for soldiers from Norminster to aid his farmers in gathering in the +harvest, which was both early and abundant. The request had been +granted. The dearth of labor on his estates arose from various causes, +but primarily from there not being cottages enough to house the +laborers, his father and he having both pursued the policy of driving +them to a distance to keep down the rates. + +"The penuriousness of rich men is a constant surprise to me," said Mr. +Forbes. "Dunghill cottages are not so frequent as they were, but there +are still a vast number too many. When old Gifford made a solitude +round him, Blagg built those reed-thatched hovels at Morte which +contribute more poor rogues to the quarter sessions than all the +surrounding parishes. That strip of debatable land is the seedbed of +crime and misery: the laborers take refuge in the hamlet, and herd +together as animals left to their own choice never do herd; but their +walk to and from their work is shortened by one half, and they have +their excuse. We should probably do the same ourselves." + +"The cottages of the small proprietors are always the worst," remarked +Mr. Chiverton. + +"If you and Gifford would combine to rebuild the houses you have allowed +to decay or have pulled down, Morte would soon be left to the owls and +the bats," said the clergyman. "By far the larger majority of the men +are employed on your farms, and it is no longer for your advantage that +their strength should be spent in walking miles to work--if ever it was. +You will have to do it. While Jack was left in brute ignorance, it was +possible to satisfy him with brute comforts and control him with brute +discipline; but teach Jack the alphabet, and he becomes as shrewd as his +master. He begins to consider what he is worth, and to readjust the +proportion between his work and his wages--to reflect that the larger +share of the profit is, perhaps, due to himself, seeing that he reaps by +his own toil and sweat, and his master reaps by the toil and sweat of a +score." + +Mr. Chiverton had manifested signs of impatience and irritability during +Mr. Forbes's address, and he now said, with his peculiar snarl for which +he was famous, "Once upon a time there was a great redistribution of +land in Egypt, and the fifth part of the increase was given to Pharaoh, +and the other four parts were left to be food to the sowers. If +Providence would graciously send us a universal famine, we might all +begin again on a new foundation." + +"Oh, we cannot wait for that--we must do something meanwhile," said Sir +Edward Lucas, understanding him literally. "I expect we shall have to +manage our land less exclusively with an eye to our own revenue from +it." + +Mr. Chiverton testily interrupted the young man's words of wisdom: "The +fact is, Jack wants to be master himself. Strikes in the manufacturing +towns are not unnatural--we know how those mercantile people grind their +hands--but since it has come to strikes amongst colliers and miners, I +tremble at the prospect for the country. The spirit of insubordination +will spread and spread until the very plough-boys in the field are +infected." + +"A good thing, too, and the sooner the better," said Mr. Oliver Smith. + +"No, no!" cried Mr. Fairfax, but Mr. Forbes said that was what they were +coming to. Sir Edward Lucas listened hard. He was fresh from Oxford, +where boating and athletic exercises had been his chief study. His +father was lately dead, and the administration of a great estate had +devolved upon him. His desire was to do his duty by it, and he had to +learn how, that prospect not having been prepared for in his education, +further than by initiation in the field-sports followed by gentlemen. + +Mr. Chiverton turned on Mr. Oliver Smith with his snarl: "Your conduct +as a landowner being above reproach, you can afford to look on with +complacency while the rest of the world are being set by the ears." + +Mr. Oliver Smith had very little land, but as all there knew what he had +as well as he knew himself, he did not wince. He rejoined: "As a class, +we have had a long opportunity for winning the confidence of the +peasants; some of us have used it--others of us have neglected it and +abused it. If the people these last have held lordship over revolt and +transfer their allegiance to other masters, to demagogues hired in the +streets, who shall blame them?" + +"Suppose we all rise above reproach: I mean to try," said Sir Edward +Lucas with an eagerness of interest that showed his good-will. "Then if +my people can find a better master, let them go." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh turned to the young man: "It depends upon yourself +whether they shall find a better master or not. Resolve that they shall +not. Consider your duty to the land and those upon it as the vocation of +your life, and you will run a worthy career." + +Sir Edward was at once gratified and silenced. Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +reputation was greater yet than his achievement, but a man's +possibilities impress the young and enthusiastic even more than his +successes accomplished. + +"You hold subversive views, Burleigh--views to which the public mind is +not educated up, nor will be in this generation," said Mr. Chiverton. +"The old order of things will last my time." + +"Changes move fast now-a-days," said Mr. Fairfax. "I should like to see +a constitutional remedy provided for the Giffords of the gentry before I +depart. We are too near neighbors to be friends, and Morte adjoins my +property." + +"Gifford was brought up in a bad school--a vaporing fellow, not true to +any of his obligations," said Mr. Oliver Smith. + +"It is Blagg, his agent, who is responsible," began Mr. Chiverton. + +Mr. Oliver Smith interrupted contemptuously: "When a landlord permits an +agent to represent him without supervision, and refuses to look into the +reiterated complaints of his tenants, he gives us leave to suppose that +his agent does him acceptable service." + +"I have remonstrated with him myself, but he is cynically indifferent to +public opinion," said Mr. Forbes. + +"The public opinion that condemns a man and dines with him is not of +much account," said Mr. Oliver Smith, with a glance at Mr. Chiverton, +the obnoxious Gifford's very good friend. + +"Would you have him cut?" demanded Mr. Chiverton. "I grant you that it +is a necessary precaution to have his words in black and white if he is +to be bound by them--" + +"You could not well say worse of a gentleman than that, Chiverton--eh?" +suggested Mr. Fairfax. + +There was a minute's silence, and then Mr. Forbes spoke: "I should like +our legal appointments to include advocates of the poor, men of +integrity whose business it would be to watch over the rights and listen +to the grievances of those classes who live by laborious work and are +helpless to resist powerful wrong. Old truth bears repeating: these are +the classes who maintain the state of the world--the laborer that holds +the plough and whose talk is of bullocks, the carpenter, the smith, and +the potter. All these trust to their hands, and are wise in their work, +and when oppression comes they must seek to some one of leisure for +justice. It is a pitiful thing to hear a poor man plead, 'Sir, what can +I do?' when his heart burns with a sense of intolerable wrong, and to +feel that the best advice you can give him is that he should bear it +patiently." + +"I call that too sentimental on your part, Forbes," remonstrated Mr. +Chiverton. "The laborers are quiet yet, and guidable as their own oxen, +but look at the trades--striking everywhere. Surely your smiths and +carpenters are proving themselves strong enough to protect their own +interests." + +"Yes, by the combination that we should all deprecate amongst our +laborers--only by that. Therefore the wise will be warned in time, for +such example is contagious. Many of our people have lain so long in +discontent that bitter distrust has come of it, and they are ready to +abandon their natural leaders for any leader who promises them more +wages and less toil. If the laborers strike, Smith's and Fairfax's will +probably stick to their furrows, and Gifford's will turn upon him--yours +too, Chiverton, perhaps." Mr. Forbes was very bold. + +"God forbid that we should come to that!" exclaimed Mr. Fairfax +devoutly. "We have all something to mend in our ways. Our view of the +responsibility that goes with the possession of land has been too +narrow. If we could put ourselves in the laborer's place!" + +"I shall mend nothing: no John Hodge shall dictate to me," cried Mr. +Chiverton in a sneering fury. "A man has a right to do what he likes +with his own, I presume?" + +"No, he has not; and especially not when he calls a great territory in +land his own," said Mr. Forbes. "That is the false principle out of +which the bad practice of some of you arises. A few have never been +guided by it--they have acted on the ancient law that the land is the +Lord's, and the profit of the land for all--and many more begin to +acknowledge that it is a false principle by which it is not safe to be +guided any longer. Pushed as far as it will go, the result is Gifford." + +"And myself," added Mr. Chiverton in a quieter voice as he rose from his +chair. Mr. Forbes looked at him. The old man made no sign of being +affronted, and they went together into the drawing-room, where he +introduced the clergyman to his wife, saying, "Here, Ada, is a +gentleman who will back you in teaching me my duty to my neighbor;" and +then he went over to Lady Angleby. + +"You are on the side of the poor man, then, Mrs. Chiverton?" said Mr. +Forbes pleasantly. "It is certainly a legitimate sphere of female +influence in country neighborhoods." + +The stately bride drew her splendid dress aside to make room for him on +the ottoman, and replied in a measured voice, "I am. I tell Mr. +Chiverton that he does not satisfy the reasonable expectations of his +people. I hope to persuade him to a more liberal policy of management on +his immense estates; his revenue from them is very large. It distresses +me to be surrounded by a discontented tenantry, as it would do to be +waited on by discontented servants. A bad cottage is an eyesore on a +rich man's land, and I shall not rest until I get all Chiver-Chase +cleared of bad cottages and picturesquely inconvenient old farmsteads. +The people appeal to me already." + +Bessie Fairfax had come up while her old school-fellow was gratifying +Mr. Forbes's ears with her admirable sentiments. She could not forbear a +smile at the candid assertion of power they implied, and as Mr. Forbes +smiled too with a twinkle of amused surprise, Bessie said sportively, +"And if Mr. Chiverton is rebellious and won't take them away, then what +shall you do?" + +Mrs. Chiverton was dumb; perhaps this probability had not occurred to +her ruling mind. Mr. Forbes begged to know what Miss Fairfax herself +would do under such circumstances. Bessie considered a minute with her +pretty chin in the air, and then said, "I would not wear my diamonds. +Oh, I would find out a way to bring him to reason!" + +A delicate color suffused Mrs. Chiverton's face, and she looked proudly +at Bessie, standing in her bright freedom before her. Bessie caught her +breath; she saw that she had given pain, and was sorry: "You don't care +for my nonsense--you remember me at school," she whispered, and laid her +hand impulsively on the slim folded hands of the young married lady. + +"I remember that you found something to laugh at in almost +everything--it is your way," said Mrs. Chiverton coldly, and as her +flush subsided she appeared paler than before. She was so evidently hurt +by something understood or imagined in Bessie's innocent raillery that +Bessie, abashed herself, drew back her hand, and as Mr. Forbes began to +speak with becoming seriousness she took the opportunity of gliding away +to join Miss Burleigh in the glazed verandah. + +It was a dark, warm night, but the moon that was rising above the trees +gradually illumined it, and made the garden mysterious with masses of +shadow, black against the silver light. In the distance rose the ghostly +towers of the cathedral. Miss Burleigh feared that the grass was too wet +for them to walk upon it, but they paced the verandah until Mr. Cecil +Burleigh found them and the rising hum of conversation in the +drawing-room announced the appearance of the other gentlemen. Miss +Burleigh then went back to the company, and there was an opportunity for +kind words and soft whisperings between the two who were left, if either +had been thereto inclined; but Bessie's frank, girlish good-humor made +lovers' pretences impossible, and while Mr. Cecil Burleigh felt every +hour that he liked her better, he felt it more difficult to imply it in +his behavior. Bessie, on her side, fully possessed with the idea that +she knew the lady of his love, was fast throwing off all sense of +embarrassment in his kindness to herself; while onlookers, predisposed +to believe what they wished, interpreted her growing ease as an +infallible sign that his progress with her was both swift and sure. + +They were still at the glass door of the verandah when Mrs. Chiverton +sought Bessie to bid her good-night. She seemed to have forgotten her +recent offence, and said, "You will come and see me, Miss Fairfax, will +you not? We ought to be friends here." + +"Oh yes," cried Bessie, who, when compunction touched her, was ready to +make liberal amends, "I shall be very glad." + +Mrs. Chiverton went away satisfied. The other guests not staying in the +house soon followed, and when all were gone there was some discussion of +the bride amongst those who were left. They were of one consent that she +was very handsome and that her jewels were most magnificent. + +"But no one envies her, I hope?" said Lady Angleby. + +"You do not admire her motive for the marriage? Perhaps you do not +believe in it?" said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. + +"I quite believe that she does, but I do not commend her example for +imitation." + +Miss Burleigh, lingering a few minutes in Miss Fairfax's room when they +went up stairs, delivered her mind on the matter. "My poor ambition +flies low," she said. "I could be content to give love for love, and do +my duty in the humblest station God might call me to, but not for any +sake could I go into the house of bondage where no love is. Poor Mrs. +Chiverton!" + +Bessie made a very unsentimental reply: "Poor Mrs. Chiverton, indeed! +Oh, but she does not want our pity! That old man is a slave to her, just +as the girls were at school. She adores power, and if she is allowed to +help and patronize people, she will be perfectly happy in her way. +Everybody does not care, first and last, to love and be loved. I have +been so long away from everybody who loves me that I am learning to do +without it." + +"Oh, my dear, don't fancy that," said Miss Burleigh, and she stroked +Bessie's face and kissed her. "Some of us here are longing to love you +quite as tenderly as any friends you have in the Forest." And then she +bade her good-night and left her to her ruminations. + +Miss Burleigh's kiss brought a blush to Bessie's face that was slow to +fade even though she was alone. She sat thinking, her hands clasped, her +eyes dreamily fixed on the flame of the candle. Some incidents on board +the Foam recurred to her mind, and the blush burnt more hotly. Then, +with a sigh, she said to herself, "It is pleasant here, everybody is +good to me, but I wish I could wake up at Beechhurst to-morrow morning, +and have a ride with my father, and mend socks with my mother in the +afternoon. There one felt _safe_." + +There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Betts entered, complacent with +the flattering things that had been said of her young lady in the +steward's room, and willing to repeat them on the smallest +encouragement: "Miss Jocund is really cleverer than could have been +supposed, miss. Your white silk fits most beautiful," she began. + +"I was not conscious of being newly dressed to-night, so her work must +be successful," replied Bessie, untying the black velvet round her fair +throat. Mrs. Betts took occasion to suggest that a few more ornaments +would not be amiss. "I don't care for ornaments--I am fond of my old +cross," Bessie said, laying it in the rosy palm of her hand. Then +looking up with a melancholy, reflective smile, she said, "All the +shining stones in the world would not tempt me to sacrifice my liberty." +Mrs. Chiverton was in her thoughts, and Lady Latimer. + +Mrs. Betts had a shrewd discernment, and she was beginning to understand +her young lady's character, and to respect it. She had herself a vein of +feeling deeper than the surface; she had seen those she loved suffer, +and she spoke in reply to Miss Fairfax with heartfelt solemnity: "It is +a true thing, miss, and nobody has better cause than me to know it, that +happiness does not belong to rank and riches. It belongs nowhere for +certain, but them that are good have most of it. For let the course of +their lives run ever so contrary, they have a peace within, given by One +above, that the proud and craving never have. Mr. Frederick's wife--she +bears the curse that has been in her family for generations, but she had +a pious bringing-up, and, poor lady! though her wits forsook her, her +best comfort never did." + +"Some day, Mrs. Betts, I shall ask you to tell me her story," Bessie +said. + +"There is not much to tell, miss. She was the second Miss Lovel (her +sister and she were co-heiresses)--not to say a beauty, but a sweet +young lady, and there was a true attachment between her and Mr. +Frederick. It was in this very house they met--in this very house he +slept after that ball where he asked her to marry him. It is not telling +secrets to tell how happy she was. Your grandfather, the old squire, +would have been better pleased had it been some other lady, because of +what was in the blood, but he did not offer to stop it, and they lived +at Abbotsmead after they were married. The house was all new done-up to +welcome her; that octagon parlor was her design. She brought Mr. +Frederick a great fortune, and they loved one another dearly, but it did +not last long. She had a baby, and lost it, and was never quite herself +after. Poor thing! poor thing!" + +"And my uncle Laurence's wife," said Bessie, not to dwell on that +tragedy of which she knew the issue. + +"Oh! Mr. Laurence's wife!" said Mrs. Betts in a quite changed tone. "I +never pitied a gentleman more. Folks who don't know ladies fancy they +speak and behave pretty always, but that lady would grind her teeth in +her rages, and make us fly before her--him too. She would throw whatever +was in her reach. She was a deal madder and more dangerous in her fits +of passion than poor Mrs. Frederick: she, poor dear! had a delusion that +she was quite destitute and dependent on charity, and when she could get +out she would go to the cottages and beg a bit of bread. A curious +delusion, miss, but it did not distress her, for she called herself one +of God's poor, and was persuaded He would take care of her. But it was +very distressing to those she belonged to. Twice she was lost. She +wandered away so far once that it was a month and over before we got her +back. She was found in Edinburgh. After that Mr. Frederick consented to +her being taken care of: he never would before." + +"Oh, Mrs. Betts, don't tell me any more, or it will haunt me." + +"Life's a sorrowful tale, miss, at best, unless we have love here and a +hope beyond." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +_A MORNING AT BRENTWOOD_. + + +Brentwood was a comfortable house to stay in for visitors who never +wanted a moment's repose. Lady Angleby lived in the midst of her +guests--must have their interest, their sympathy in all her occupations, +and she was never without a press of work and correspondence. Bessie +Fairfax by noon next day felt herself weary without having done anything +but listen with folded hands to tedious dissertations on matters +political and social that had no interest for her. Since ten o'clock Mr. +Cecil Burleigh and Mr. Fairfax had withdrawn themselves, and were gone +into Norminster, and Miss Burleigh sat, a patient victim, with two dark +hollows under her eyes--bearing up with a smile while ready to sink +with fatigue. The gentlemen did not return to luncheon, but a caller +dropped in--a clergyman, Mr. Jones; and Miss Burleigh took the +opportunity of his entrance to vanish, making a sign to Miss Fairfax to +come too. They went into the garden, where they were met by a vivacious, +pretty old lady, Miss Hague, a former governess of Miss Burleigh, who +now acted as assistant secretary to Lady Angleby. + +"Your enemy, Mr. Jones, is in the drawing-room with my aunt," Miss +Burleigh told her. "Quite by chance--he was not asked." + +"Oh, let him stay. It is a study to see him amble about her ladyship +with the airs and graces of a favorite, and then to witness his +condescension to inferior persons like me," said Miss Hague. "I'll go to +your room, Mary, and take off my bonnet." + +"Do, dear. We have only just escaped into the fresh air, and are making +the most of our liberty." + +Miss Hague lodged within a stone's throw of Brentwood, and Lady Angleby +was good in bidding her go to luncheon whenever she felt disposed. She +was disposed as seldom as courtesy allowed, for, though very poor, she +was a gentlewoman of independent spirit, and her ladyship sometimes +forgot it. She was engaged seeking some report amongst her papers when +Miss Hague entered, but she gave her a nod of welcome. Mr. Jones said, +"Ah, Miss Hague," with superior affability, and luncheon was announced. + +Lady Angleby had to give and hear opinions on a variety of subjects +while they were at table. Middle-class female education Mr. Jones had +not gone into. He listened and was instructed, and supposed that it +might easily be made better; nevertheless, he had observed that the best +taught amongst his candidates for confirmation came from the shopkeeping +class, where the parents still gave their children religious lessons at +home. Then ladies of refined habits and delicate feelings as mistresses +of elementary schools--that was a new idea to him. A certain robustness +seemed, perhaps, more desirable; teaching a crowd of imperfectly washed +little boys and girls was not fancy-work; also he believed that +essential propriety existed to the full as much amongst the young women +now engaged as amongst young ladies. If the object was to create a class +of rural school-mistresses who would take social rank with the curate, +he thought it a mistake; a school-mistress ought not to be above +drinking her cup of tea in a tidy cottage with the parents of her +pupils: he should prefer a capable young woman in a clean holland apron +with pockets, and no gloves, to any poor young lady of genteel tastes +who would expect to associate on equal terms with his wife and +daughters. Then, cookery for the poor. Here Mr. Jones fell inadvertently +into a trap. He said that the chief want amongst the poor was something +to cook: there was very little spending in twelve shillings a week, or +even in fifteen and eighteen, with a family to house, clothe, and feed. +Lady Angleby held a quite opposite view. She said that a helpless +thriftlessness was at the root of the matter. She had printed and +largely distributed a little book of receipts, for which many people had +thanked her. Mr. Jones knew the little book, and had heard his wife say +that Lady Angleby's receipt for stewed rabbits was well enough, but that +her receipt for hares stewed with onions was hares spoilt; and where +were poor people to get hares unless they went out poaching? + +"I assure your ladyship that agrimony tea is still drunk amongst our +widows, and an ounce of shop-tea is kept for home-coming sons and +daughters grown proud in service. They gather the herb in the autumn, +and dry it in bunches for the winter's use. And many is the laborer who +lets his children swallow the lion's share of his Sunday bit of meat +because the wife says it makes them strong, and children have not the +sense not to want all they see. Any economical reform amongst the +extravagant classes that would leave more and better food within reach +of the hard-working classes would be highly beneficial to both. +Sometimes I wish we could return to that sumptuary law of Queen +Elizabeth which commanded the rich to eat fish and fast from flesh-meat +certain days of the week." Here Mr. Jones too abruptly paused. Lady +Angleby had grown exceedingly red in the face; Bessie Fairfax had grown +rosy too, with suppressed reflections on the prize-stature to which her +hostess had attained in sixty years of high feeding. Queen Elizabeth's +pious fast might have been kept by her with much advantage to her +figure. + +Poor Mr. Jones had confused himself as well as Lady Angleby, but the +return to the drawing-room created an opportune diversion. He took up an +illustrated paper with a scene from a new play, and after studying it +for a few minutes began to denounce the amusements of the gay world in +the tone of a man who has known nothing of them, but has let his +imagination run into very queer illusions. This passed harmless. Nobody +was concerned to defend the actor's vocation where nobody followed it; +but Mr. Jones was next so ill-advised as to turn to Miss Hague, and say +with a supercilious air that since they last met he had been trying to +read a novel, which he mentioned by name--a masterpiece of modern +fiction--and really he could not see the good of such works. Miss Hague +and he had disagreed on this subject before. She was an inveterate +novel-reader, and claimed kindred with a star of chief magnitude in the +profession, and to speak lightly of light literature in her presence +always brought her out warmly and vigorously in defence and praise of +it. + +"No good in such works, Mr. Jones!" cried she. "My hair is gray, and +this is a solemn fact: for the conduct of life I have found far more +counsel and comfort in novels than in sermons, in week-day books than in +Sunday preachers!" + +There was a startled silence. Miss Burleigh extended a gentle hand to +stop the impetuous old lady, but the words were spoken, and she could +only intervene as moderator: "Novels show us ourselves at a distance, as +it were. I think they are good both for instruction and reproof. The +best of them are but the Scripture parables in modern masquerade. Here +is one--the Prodigal Son of the nineteenth century, going out into the +world, wasting his substance with riotous living, suffering, repenting, +returning, and rejoiced over." + +"Our Lord made people think: I am not aware that novels make people +think," said Mr. Jones with cool contempt. + +"Apply your mind to the study of either of these books--Mr. Thackeray's +or George Eliot's--and you will not find all its powers too much for +their appreciation," said Miss Hague. + +Mr. Jones made a slight grimace: "Pray excuse the comparison, Miss +Hague, but you remind me of a groom of mine whom I sent up to the Great +Exhibition. When he came home again all he had to say was, 'Oh, sir, the +saddlery was beautiful!'" + +"Nothing like leather!" laughed Lady Angleby. + +"He showed his wit--he spoke of what he understood," said Miss Hague. +"You undertake to despise light literature, of which avowedly you know +nothing. Tell me: of the little books and tracts that you circulate, +which are the most popular?" + +"The tales and stories; they are thumbed and blackened when the serious +pages are left unread," Mr. Jones admitted. + +"It is the same with the higher-class periodicals that come to us from +D'Oyley's library," said Lady Angleby, pointing to the brown, buff, +orange, green, and purple magazines that furnished her round-table. "The +novels are well read, so are the social essays and the bits of gossiping +biography; but dry chapters of exploration, science, discovery, and +politics are tasted, and no more: the first page or two may be opened, +and the rest as often as not are uncut. And as they come to Brentwood, +so, but for myself, they would go away. The young people prefer the +stories, and with rare exceptions it is the same with their elders. The +fact is worth considering. A puff of secular air, to blow away the vapor +of sanctity in which the clergy envelop themselves, might be salutary at +intervals. All fresh air is a tonic." + +Mr. Jones repeated his slight grimace, and said, "Will Miss Hague be so +kind as to tell me what a sermon ought to be? I will sit at her feet +with all humility." + +"With arrogant humility!--with the pride that apes humility," cried Miss +Hague with cheerful irreverence. "I don't pretend to teach you +sermon-making: I only tell you that, such as sermons mostly are, +precious little help or comfort can be derived from them." + +Mr. Jones again made his characteristic grimace, expressive of the +contempt for secular opinion with which he was morally so well +cushioned, but he had a kind heart and refrained from crushing his poor +old opponent with too severe a rejoinder. He granted that some novels +might be harmless, and such as he would not object to see in the hands +of his daughters; but as a general rule he had a prejudice against +fiction; and as for theatres, he would have them all shut up, for he +was convinced that thousands of young men and women might date their +ruin from their first visit to a theatre: he could tell them many +anecdotes in support of his assertions. Fortunately, it was three +o'clock. The butler brought in letters by the afternoon post, and the +anecdotes had to be deferred to a more convenient season. The clergyman +took his leave. + +Lady Angleby glanced through her sheaf of correspondence, and singled +out one letter. "From dear Lady Latimer," she said, and tore it open. +But as she read her countenance became exceedingly irate, and at the end +she tossed it over to Miss Hague: "There is the answer to your +application." The old lady did not raise her eyes immediately after its +perusal, and Miss Burleigh took it kindly out of her hand, saying, "Let +me see." Then Lady Angleby broke out: "I do not want anybody to teach me +what is my duty, I hope." + +Miss Hague now looked up, and Bessie Fairfax's kind heart ached to see +her bright eyes glittering as she faltered, "I think it is a very kind +letter. I wish more people were of Lady Latimer's opinion. I do not wish +to enter the Governesses' Asylum: it would take me quite away from all +the places and people I am fond of. I might never see any of you again." + +"How often must I tell you that it is not necessary you should go into +the asylum? You may be elected to one of the out-pensions if we can +collect votes enough. As for Lady Latimer reserving her vote for really +friendless persons, it is like her affectation of superior virtue." Lady +Angleby spoke and looked as if she were highly incensed. + +Miss Hague was trembling all over, and begging that nothing more might +be said on the subject. + +"But there is no time to lose," said her patroness, still more angrily. +"If you do not press on with your applications, you will be too late: +everybody will be engaged for the election in November. The voting-list +is on my writing-table--the names I know are marked. Go on with the +letters in order, and I will sign them when I return from my drive." + +Miss Fairfax's face was so pitiful and inquisitive that the substance of +Lady Latimer's letter was repeated to her. It was to the effect that +Miss Hague's former pupils were of great and wealthy condition for the +most part, and that they ought not to let her appeal to public charity, +but to subscribe a sufficient pension for her amongst themselves; and +out of the respect in which she herself held her, Lady Latimer offered +five pounds annually towards it. "And I think that is right," said +Bessie warmly. "If you were my old governess, Miss Hague, I should be +only too glad to subscribe." + +"Well, my dear young lady, I was your father's governess and your +uncles' until they went to a preparatory school for Eton: from +Frederick's being four years old to Geoffry's being ten, I lived at +Abbotsmead," said Miss Hague. "And here is another of my boys," she +added as the door opened and Sir Edward Lucas was announced. + +"Then I will do what my father would have done had he been alive," said +Bessie. "Perhaps my uncle Laurence will too." + +"What were you saying of me, dear Hoddydoddy?" asked Sir Edward, turning +to the old lady when he had paid his devoirs to the rest. + +The matter being explained to him, he was eager to contribute his +fraction. "Then leave the final arrangement to me," said Lady Angleby. +"I will settle what is to be done. You need not write any more of those +letters, Miss Hague, and I trust these enthusiastic young people will +not tire of what they have undertaken. It is right, but if everybody did +what is right on such occasions there would be little use for benevolent +institutions. Sir Edward, we were going to drive into Norminster: will +you take a seat in my carriage?" + +Sir Edward would be delighted; and Miss Hague, released from her +ladyship's desk, went home happy, and in the midst of doubts and fears +lest she had hurt the feelings of Mr. Jones wept the soft tears of +grateful old age that meets with unexpected kindness. The resolute +expression of her sentiments by Miss Fairfax had inspired her with +confidence, and she longed to see that young lady again. In the letter +of thanks she wrote to Lady Latimer she did not fail to mention how her +judgment and example had been supported by that young disciple; and Lady +Latimer, revolving the news with pleasure, began to think of paying a +visit to Woldshire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +_SOME DOUBTS AND FEARS_. + + +Sir Edward Lucas was a gentleman for whom Lady Angleby had a +considerable degree of favor: it was a pity he was so young, otherwise +he might have done for Mary. Poor Mary! Mr. Forbes and she had a long, +obstinate kindness for each other, but Lady Angleby stood in the way: +Mr. Forbes did not satisfy any of her requirements. Besides, if she gave +Mary up, who was to live with her at Brentwood? Therefore Mr. Forbes and +Miss Burleigh, after a six years' engagement, still played at patience. +She did not drive into Norminster that afternoon. "Mr. Fairfax and Cecil +will be glad of a seat back," said she, and stood excused. + +Sir Edward Lucas had more pleasure in facing his contemporary: Miss +Fairfax he regarded as his contemporary. He was smitten with a lively +admiration for her, and in course of the drive he sought her advice on +important matters. Lady Angleby began to instruct him on what he ought +to do for the improvement of his fine house at Longdown, but he wanted +to talk rather of a new interest--the mineral wealth still waiting +development on his property at Hippesley Moor. + +"Now, what should you do, Miss Fairfax, supposing you had to earn your +bread by a labor always horribly disagreeable and never unattended by +danger?" he asked with great eagerness. + +Bessie had not a doubt of what she should do: "I should work as hard as +ever I could for the shortest possible time that would keep me in +bread." + +"Just so," said Sir Edward rubbing his hands. "So would I. Now, will +that principle work amongst colliers? I am going to open a pit at +Hippesley Moor, where the coal is of excellent quality. It is a fresh +start, and I shall try to carry out your principle, Miss Fairfax; I am +convinced that it is excellent and Christian." + +_Christian!_ Bessie's blue eyes widened with laughing alarm. "Oh, had +you not better consult somebody of greater experience?" cried she. + +Lady Angleby approved her modesty, and with smiling indulgence +remarked, "I should think so, indeed!" + +"No, no: experience is always for sticking to grooves," said Sir Edward. +"I like Miss Fairfax's idea. It is shrewd--it goes to the root of the +difficulty. We must get it out in detail. Now, if in three days' hard +work the collier can earn the week's wages of an agricultural laborer +and more--and he can--we have touched the reason why he takes so many +play-days. It would be a very sharp spur of necessity indeed that would +drive me into a coal-pit at all; and nothing would keep me there one +hour after necessity was satisfied. I shall take into consideration the +instinct of our common humanity that craves for some sweetness in life, +and as far as I am able it shall be gratified. Now, the other three +days: what shall be their occupation? Idleness will not do." + +"No, I should choose to have a garden and work in the sun," said Bessie, +catching some of his spirit. + +"And I should choose to tend some sort of live-stock. In the way of +minor industries I am convinced that a great deal may be put in their +way only by taking thought. I shall lay parcels of land together for +spade cultivation--the men will have a market at their own doors; then +poultry farms--" + +"Not forgetting the cock-pit for Sunday amusement," interrupted Lady +Angleby sarcastically. "You are too Utopian, Sir Edward. Your colony +will be a dismal failure and disappointment if you conduct it on such a +sentimental plan." + +Sir Edward colored. He had a love of approbation, and her ladyship was +an authority. He sought to propitiate her better opinion, and resumed: +"There shall be no inexorable rule. A man may work his six days in the +pit if it be his good-will, but he shall have the chance of a decent +existence above ground if he refuse to live in darkness and peril more +than three or four. Schools and institutes are very good things in their +place, and I shall not neglect to provide them, but I do not expect that +more than a slender minority of my colliers will ever trouble the +reading-room much. Let them feed pigs and grow roses." + +"They will soon not know what they want. The common people grow more +exacting every day--even our servants. You will have some fine stories +of trouble and vexation to tell us before long." + +Sir Edward looked discouraged, and Bessie Fairfax, with her impulsive +kind heart, exclaimed, "No, no! In all labor there is profit, and if you +work at doing your best for those who depend on your land, you will not +be disappointed. Men are not all ungrateful." + +Sir Edward certainly was not. He thanked Miss Fairfax energetically, and +just then the carriage stopped at the "George." Mr. Fairfax and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh came out in the most cheerful good-humor, and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh began to tell Bessie that she did not know how much she had +done for him by securing Buller's vote; it had drawn others after it. +Bessie was delighted, and was not withheld by any foolish shyness from +proclaiming that her mind was set on his winning his election. + +"You ought to take these two young people into your counsels, Cecil; +they have some wonderful devices for the promotion of contentment +amongst coal-miners," said Lady Angleby. Mr. Fairfax glanced in his +granddaughter's innocent, rosy face, and shook hands with Sir Edward as +he got out of the carriage. Mr. Cecil Burleigh said that wisdom was not +the monopoly of age, and then he inquired where they were going. + +They were going to call at the manor on Lady Eden, and to wind up with a +visit to Mr. Laurence Fairfax in the Minster Court. Mr. Fairfax said he +would meet them there, and the same said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. Sir Edward +Lucas stood halting on the inn-steps, wistfully hoping for a bidding to +come too. Lady Angleby was even kinder than his hopes; she asked if he +had any engagement for the evening, and when he answered in the negative +she invited him to come and dine at Brentwood again. He accepted with +joy unfeigned. + +When the ladies reached Minster Court only Mr. Cecil Burleigh had +arrived there. Lady Angleby was impatient to hear some private details +of the canvass, and took her nephew aside to talk of it. Mr. Laurence +Fairfax began to ask Bessie how long she was to stay at Brentwood. +"Until Monday," Bessie said; and her eyes roved unconsciously to the +cupboard under the bookcase where the toys lived, but it was fast shut +and locked, and gave no sign of its hid treasures. Her uncle's eyes +followed hers, and with a significant smile he said, if she pleased, he +would request her grandfather to leave her with him for a few days, +adding that he would find her some young companions. Bessie professed +that she would like it very much, and when Mr. Fairfax came in the +request was preferred and cordially granted. The squire was in high +good-humor with his granddaughter and all the world just now. + +Bessie went away from Minster Court with jubilant anticipations of what +might happen during the proposed visit to her uncle's house. One thing +she felt sure of: she would become better acquainted with that darling +cherub of a boy, and the vision she made of it shed quite a glow on the +prospect. She told Miss Burleigh when she returned to Brentwood that she +was not going out of reach on Monday; she was going to stay a few days +with her uncle Laurence in Minster Court. + +"Cecil will be so glad!" said his devoted sister. + +"There are no more Bullers to conquer, are there?" Bessie asked, turning +her face aside. + +"I hope not. Oh no! Cecil begins to be tolerably sure of his election, +and he will have you to thank for it. Mr. John Short blesses you every +hour of the day." + +Bessie laughed lightly. "I did good unconsciously, and blush to find it +fame," said she. + +A fear that her brother's success with Miss Fairfax might be doubtful, +though his election was sure, flashed at that instant into Miss +Burleigh's mind. Bessie's manner was not less charming, but it was much +more intrepid, and at intervals there was a strain of fun in it--of +mischief and mockery. Was it the subacid flavor of girlish caprice, +which might very well subsist in combination with her sweetness, or was +it sheer insensibility? Time would show, but Miss Burleigh retained a +lurking sense of uneasiness akin to that she had experienced when she +detected in Miss Fairfax, at their first meeting, an inclination to +laugh at her aunt--an uneasiness difficult to conceal and dangerous to +confess. Not for the world would she, at this stage of the affair, have +revealed her anxiety to her brother, who held the even tenor of his +way, whatever he felt--never obtrusive and never negligent. He treated +Bessie like the girl of sense she was, with courtesy, but without +compliments or any idle banter; and Bessie certainly began to enjoy his +society. He improved on acquaintance, and made the hours pass much more +pleasantly at Brentwood when he was there than they passed in his +absence. This was promising. The evening's dinner-party would have been +undeniably heavy without the leaven of his wit, for Mr. Logger, that +well-known political writer, had arrived from London in the course of +the afternoon, and Lady Angleby and he discoursed with so much solemn +allusion and innuendo on the affairs of the nation that it was like +listening surreptitiously at a cabinet council. Sir Edward Lucas was +quite silent and oppressed. + +Coming into the morning-room after breakfast on the following day armed +with a roll of papers, Mr. Logger announced, "I met our excellent friend +Lady Latimer at Summerhay last week; she is immensely interested in the +education movement." + +Mr. Fairfax and Mr. Cecil Burleigh instantly discovered that it was time +they were gone into the town, and with one compunctious glance at +Bessie, of which she did not yet know the meaning, they vanished. The +roll in Mr. Logger's hand was an article in manuscript on that education +movement in which he had stated that his friend Lady Latimer was so +immensely interested; and he had the cruelty to propose to read it to +the ladies here. He did read it, his hostess listening with gratified +approval and keeping a controlling eye on Miss Fairfax, who, when she +saw what impended, would have escaped had she been able. Miss Burleigh +bore it as she bore everything--with smiling resignation--but she +enjoyed the vivacity of Bessie's declaration afterward that the lecture +was unpardonable. + +"What a shockingly vain old gentleman! Could we not have waited to read +his article in print?" said she. + +"Probably it will never be in print. He toadies my aunt, who likes to be +credited with a literary taste, but Cecil says people laugh at him; he +is not of any weight, either literary or political, though he has great +pretensions. We shall have him for a week at least, and I have no doubt +he has brought manuscript to last the whole time." + +Bessie was so uncomfortably candid as to cry out that she was glad, +then, her visit would soon be over; and then she tried to extenuate her +plain-speaking, not very skilfully. + +Miss Burleigh accepted her plea with a gentleness that reproached her: +"We hoped that you would be happy at Brentwood with Cecil here; his +company is generally supposed to make any place delightful. He is +exceedingly dear to us all; no one knows how good he is until they have +lived with him a long while." + +"Oh, I am sure he is good; I like him much better now than I did at +first; but if he runs away to Norminster and leaves us a helpless prey +to Mr. Logger, that is not delightful," rejoined Bessie winsomely. + +Miss Burleigh kissed and forgave her, acknowledged that it was the +reverse of delightful, and conveyed an intimation to her brother by +which he profited. Mr. Logger favored the ladies with another reading on +Sunday afternoon--an essay on sermons, and twice as long as one. Mr. +Jones should have been there: this essay was much heavier artillery than +Miss Hague's little paper-winged arrows. In the middle of it, just at +the moment when endurance became agony and release bliss, Mr. Cecil +Burleigh entered and invited Miss Fairfax to walk into the town to +minster prayers, and Bessie went so gladly that his sister was quite +consoled in being left to hear Mr. Logger to an end. + +The two were about to ascend the minster steps when they espied Mr. +Fairfax in the distance, and turned to meet him. He had been lunching +with his son. At the first glance Bessie knew that her grandfather had +suffered an overwhelming surprise since he went out in the morning. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh also perceived that something was amiss, and not to +distress his friend by inopportune remark, he said where he and Miss +Fairfax were going. + +"Go--go, by all means," said the squire. "Perhaps you may overtake me as +you return: I shall walk slowly, and I want a word with Short as I pass +his house." With this he went on, and the young people entered the +minster, thinking but not speaking of what they could not but +observe--his manifest bewilderment and pre-occupation. + +On the road home they did not, however, overtake Mr. Fairfax. He reached +Brentwood before them, and was closeted with Lady Angleby for some +considerable time previous to dinner. Her ladyship was not agreeable +without effort that evening, and there was indeed a perceptible cloud +over everybody but Mr. Logger. Whatever the secret, it had been +communicated to Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sister, and it affected them +all more or less uncomfortably. Bessie guessed what had happened--that +her grandfather had seen his son Laurence's little playfellow, and that +there had been an important revelation. + +Bessie was right. Mr. Laurence Fairfax had Master Justus on his lap when +his father unexpectedly walked into his garden. There was a lady in blue +amongst the flowers who vanished; and the incompetent Sally, with +something in her arms, who also hastily retired, but not unseen, either +her or her burden. Master Justus held his ground with baby audacity, and +the old squire recognized a strong young shoot of the Fairfax stock. One +or two sharp exclamations and astounded queries elicited from Mr. +Laurence Fairfax that he had been five years married to the lady in +blue--a niece of Dr. Jocund--and that the bold little boy was his own, +and another in the nurse's arms. Mr. Fairfax did not refuse to sit at +meat with his son, though the chubby boy sat opposite, but he declined +all conversation on the subject beyond the bald fact, and expressed no +desire to be made acquainted with his newly-discovered daughter-in-law. +Indeed, at a hint of it he jerked out a peremptory negative, and left +the house without any more reference to the matter. Mr. Laurence Fairfax +feared that it would be long before his father would darken his doors +again, but it was a sensible relief to have got his secret told, and not +to have had any angry, unpardonable words about it. The squire said +little, but those who knew him knew perfectly that he might be silent +and all the more indignant. And undoubtedly he was indignant. Of his +three sons, Laurence had been always the one preferred; and this was his +usage of him, his confidence in him! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +_IN MINSTER COURT_. + + +Mr. Fairfax did not withdraw his consent to Elizabeth's staying in +Norminster with her uncle Laurence, and on Monday afternoon she and Mrs. +Betts were transferred from Brentwood to Minster Court. On the first +evening Mr. John Short dined there, but no one else. He made Miss +Fairfax happy by talking of the Forest, which he had revisited more than +once since the famous first occasion. After dinner the two gentlemen +remained together a long while, and Bessie amused herself alone in the +study. She cast many a look towards the toy-cupboard, and was strongly +tempted to peep, but did not; and in the morning her virtue had its +reward. It was a little after eleven o'clock when Burrage threw open the +door of the study where she was sitting with her uncle and announced +"The dear children, sir," in a matter-of-fact tone, as if they were +daily visitors. + +Bessie's back was to the door. She blushed and turned round with +brightened eyes, and there, behold! was that sweet little boy in a blue +poplin tunic, and a second little boy, a year smaller, in a white +embroidered frock and scarlet sash! The voice of the incompetent Sally +was heard in final exhortation, "Now, mind you be good, Master Justus!" +and Master Justus ran straight to the philosopher and saluted him +imperatively as "Dada!" which honorable title the other little boy +echoed in an imperfect lisp, with an eager desire to be taken up and +kissed. The desire was abundantly gratified, and then Mr. Laurence +Fairfax said, "This is Laury," and offered him to Bessie for a +repetition of the ceremonial. + +Bessie could not have told why, but her eyes filled as she took him into +her lap and took off his pretty hat to see his shining curly locks. +Master Justus was already at the cupboard dragging out the toys, and her +uncle stood and looked down at her with a pleased, benevolent face. "Of +course they are my cousins?" said Bessie simply, and quite as simply he +said "Yes." + +This was all the interrogatory. But games ensued in which Bessie was +brought to her knees and a seat on the carpet, and had the beautiful +propriety of her hair as sadly disarranged as in her gypsy childhood +amongst the rough Carnegie boys. Mrs. Betts put it tidy again before +luncheon, after the children were gone. Mrs. Betts had fathomed the +whole mystery, and would have been sympathetic about it had not her +young lady manifested an invincible gayety. Bessie hardly knew herself +for joy. She wanted very much to hear the romantic story that must +belong to those bonny children, but she felt that she must wait her +uncle's time to tell it. Happily for her peace, the story was not long +delayed: she learnt it that evening. + +This was the scene in Mr. Laurence Fairfax's study. He was seated at +ease in his great leathern chair, and perched on his knee, with one arm +round his neck and a ripe pomegranate cheek pressed against his ear, was +that winsome little lady in blue who was to be known henceforward as the +philosopher's wife: if she had not been so exquisitely pretty it would +have seemed a liberty to take with so much learning. Opposite to them, +and grim as a monumental effigy, sat Miss Jocund, and Bessie Fairfax, +with an amazed and amused countenance, listened and looked on. The +philosopher and his wife were laughing: they loved one another, they had +two dear little boys; what could the world give them or take away in +comparison with such joys? Their secret, long suspected in various +quarters, had transpired publicly since yesterday, and Lady Angleby had +that morning appealed haughtily to Miss Jocund in her own shop to know +how it had all happened. + +Miss Jocund now reported what she had answered: "I reckon, your +ladyship, that Dan Cupid is no more open in his tactics than ever he +was. All I have to tell is, that one evening, some six years ago, my +niece Rosy, who was a timid little thing, went for a walk by the river +with a school-fellow, and a hulking, rude boy gave them a fright. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax, by good luck, was in the way and brought them home, +and said to me that Rosy was much too pretty to be allowed to wander out +unprotected. When they met after he had a kind nod and a word for her, +and I've no doubt she had a shy blush for him. A philosopher is but a +man, and liable to fall in love, and that is what he did: he fell in +love with Rosy and married her. It suited all parties to keep it a +secret at first; but a secret is like a birth--when its time is full +forth it must come. Two little boys with Fairfax writ large on their +faces are bad to hide. Therefore it suits all parties now to declare the +marriage. And that is the whole story, an' it please your ladyship." + +"I warrant it did not please her ladyship at all," said Mr. Laurence +Fairfax, laughing at the recital. + +"No. She turned and went away in a rage; then came back to expound her +views with respect to Rosy's origin. I begged to inform her that from +time immemorial king's jesters had been of the Jocund family--an office +to the full as dignified as the office of public barber. And a barber +her ladyship's great-grandfather was, and shaved His Majesty's lieges +for a penny. Mr. Cecil Burleigh waited for her outside, and to him +immediately she of course repeated the tale. How does it come to be a +concern of his, I should be glad to know?" Nobody volunteered to gratify +her curiosity, but Mr. Laurence Fairfax could have done so, no doubt. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had not visited Minster Court that day: was this the +reason? Bessie was not absolutely indifferent to the omission, but she +had other diversions. That night she went up stairs with the young +mother (so young that Elizabeth could not fashion to call her by her +title of kindred) to view the boys in their cots, and saw her so loving +and tender over them that she could not but reflect how dear a companion +she must be to her philosopher after his lost Xantippe. She was such a +sweet and gentle lady that, though he had chosen to marry her privately, +he could have no reluctance in producing her as his wife. He had kept +her to himself unspoilt, had much improved her in their retired life, +and as he had no intention of bringing her into rivalry with finer +ladies, the charm of her adoring simplicity was not likely to be +impaired. He had set his mind on his niece Elizabeth for her friend from +the first moment of their meeting, and except Elizabeth he did not +desire that she should find, at present, any intimate friend of her own +sex. And Elizabeth was perfectly ready to be her friend, and to care +nothing for the change in her own prospects. + +"You know that my boys will make all the difference to you?" her uncle +said to her the next day, being a few minutes alone with her. + +"Oh yes, I understand, and I shall be the happier in the end. Abbotsmead +will be quite another place when they come over," was her reply. + +"There is my father to conciliate before they can come to Abbotsmead. He +is deeply aggrieved, and not without cause. You may help to smooth the +way to comfortable relations again, or at least to prevent a widening +breach. I count on that, because he has permitted you to come here, +though he knows that Rosy and the boys are with me. I should not have +had any right to complain had he denied us your visit." + +"But I should have had a right to complain, and I should have +complained," said Bessie. "My grandfather and I are friends now, because +I have plucked up courage to assert my right to respect myself and my +friends who brought me up; otherwise we must have quarrelled soon." + +Mr. Laurence Fairfax smiled: "My father can be obstinately unforgiving. +So he was to my brother Geoffry and his wife; so he may be to me, though +we have never had a disagreement." + +"I could fancy that he was sometimes sorry for his unkindness to my +father. I shall not submit if he attempt to forbid me your house or the +joy of seeing my little cousins. Oh, his heart must soften to them soon. +I am glad he saw Justus, the darling!" + +Bessie Fairfax had evidently no worldly ambition. All her desire was +still only to be loved. Her uncle Laurence admired her unselfishness, +and before she left his house at the week's end he had her confidence +entirely. He did not place too much reliance on her recollections of +Beechhurst as the place where she had centred her affections, for young +affections are prone to weave a fine gossamer glamour about early days +that will not bear the touch of later experience; but he was sure there +had been a blunder in bringing her into Woldshire without giving her a +pause amongst those scenes where her fond imagination dwelt, if only to +sweep it clear of illusions and make room for new actors on the stage of +her life. He said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, with whom he had an important +conversation during her visit to Minster Court, that he did not believe +she would ever give her mind to settling amongst her north-country +kindred until she had seen again her friends in the Forest, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh began to agree with him. Miss Burleigh did the same. + +It was settled already that the recent disclosure must make no +alteration in the family compact. Mr. Cecil Burleigh interposed a firm +veto when its repeal was hinted at. Every afternoon, one excepted, he +called on Miss Fairfax to report the progress of his canvass, +accompanied by his sister, and Bessie always expressed herself glad in +his promising success. But it was with a cool cheek and candor shining +clear in her blue eyes that she saw them come and saw them go; and both +brother and sister felt this discouraging. The one fault they found in +Miss Fairfax was an absence of enthusiasm for themselves; and Bessie was +so thankful that she had overcome her perverse trick of blushing at +nothing. When she took her final leave of them before quitting Minster +Court, Mr. Cecil Burleigh said that he should probably be over at +Abbotsmead in the course of the ensuing week, and Bessie was glad as +usual, and smiled cordially, and hoped that blue would win--as if he +were thinking only of the election! + +He was thinking of it, and perhaps primarily, but his interest in +herself was becoming so much warmer and more personal than it had +promised to be that it would have given him distinct pleasure to +perceive that she was conscious of it. + +The report of Mr. Laurence Fairfax's private marriage had spread through +city and country, but Bessie went back to Kirkham without having heard +it discussed except by Mrs. Betts, who was already so deeply initiated +in the family secrets. That sage and experienced woman owned frankly to +her young mistress that in her judgment it was a very good thing, looked +at in the right way. + +"A young lady that is a great heiress is more to be pitied than envied: +that is my opinion," said she. "If she is not made a sacrifice of in +marriage, it is a miracle. Men run after her for her money, or she +fancies they do, which comes to the same thing; and perhaps she doesn't +marry at all for suspecting nobody loves her; which is downright +foolish. Jonquil and Macky are in great spirits over what has come out, +and I don't suppose there is one neighbor to Kirkham that won't be +pleased to hear that there's grandsons, even under the rose, to carry on +the old line. Mrs. Laurence is a dear sweet lady, and the children are +handsome little fellows as ever stepped; their father may well be proud +of 'em. He has done a deal better for himself the second time than he +did the first. I dare say it was what he suffered the first time made +him choose so different the second. It is not to be wondered at that the +squire is vext, but he ought to have learnt wisdom now, and it is to be +hoped he will come round by and by. But whether or not, the deed's done, +and he cannot undo it." + +Mrs. Betts's summary embodied all the common sense of the case, and left +nothing more to be said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +_LADY LATIMER IN WOLDSHIRE_. + + +Mr. Fairfax welcomed Elizabeth on her arrival with an air of reserve, as +if he did not wish to receive any intelligence from Minster Court. +Bessie took the hint. The only news he had for her was that she might +mount Janey now as soon as she pleased. Bessie was pleased to mount her +the next morning, and to enjoy a delightful ride in her grandfather's +company. Janey went admirably, and promised to be an immense addition to +the cheerfulness of her mistress's life. Mr. Fairfax was gratified to +see her happy, and they chatted cordially enough, but Bessie did not +find it possible to speak of the one thing that lay uppermost in her +mind. + +In the afternoon Mrs. Stokes called, and having had a glimpse of Mr. +Laurence Fairfax's secret, and heard various reports since, she was +curious for a full revelation. Bessie gave her the narrative complete, +interspersed with much happy prediction; and Mrs. Stokes declared +herself infinitely relieved to hear that, in spite of probabilities, the +mysterious wife was a quite presentable person. + +"You remember that I told you Miss Jocund was a lady herself," she said. +"The Jocunds are an old Norminster family, and we knew a Dr. Jocund in +India. It was an odd thing for Miss Jocund to turn milliner; still, it +must be much more comfortable than dependence upon friends. There is +nothing so unsatisfactory as helpless poor relations. Colonel Stokes has +no end of them. I wish they would turn milliners, or go into Lady +Angleby's scheme of genteel mistresses for national schools, or do +anything but hang upon us. And the worst is, they are never grateful and +never done with." + +"Are they ashamed to work?" + +"No, I don't think shame is in their way, or pride, but sheer +incompetence. One is blind, another is a confirmed invalid." + +"Then perhaps Providence puts them in your lot for the correction of +selfishness," said Bessie laughing. "I believe if we all helped the need +that belongs to us by kindred or service, there would be little misery +of indigence in the world, and little superfluity of riches even amongst +the richest. That must have been the original reading of the old saw +that sayeth, 'Charity should begin at home.'". + +"Oh, political economy is not in my line," cried Mrs. Stokes, also +laughing. "You have caught a world of wisdom from Mr. Cecil Burleigh, no +doubt, but please don't shower it on me." + +Bessie did not own the impeachment by a blush, as she would have done a +week ago. She could hear that name with composure now, and was proving +an apt pupil in the manners of society. Mrs. Stokes scanned her in some +perplexity, and would have had her discourse of the occupations and +diversions of Brentwood, but all Bessie's inclination was to discourse +of those precious boys in Minster Court. + +"They are just of an age to be play-fellows with your boys," she said to +the blooming little matron. "How I should rejoice to see them racing +about the garden together!" + +Bessie was to wish this often and long before her loving desire was +gratified. If she had not been preassured that her grandfather did, in +fact, know all that was to be known about the children, nothing in his +conduct would have betrayed it to her. She told the story in writing to +her mother, and received advice of prudence and patience. The days and +weeks at Abbotsmead flowed evenly on, and brought no opportunity of +asking the favor of a visit from them. Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton drove +over to luncheon, and Bessie and her grandfather returned the civility. +Sir Edward Lucas came to call and stayed a long time, planning his new +town for colliers: Miss Fairfax said a word in praise of steep tiled +roofs as more airy than low roofs of slate, and Sir Edward was an easy +convert to her opinion. Mr. Cecil Burleigh came twice to spend a few +days, and brought a favorable report of his canvass; the second time his +sister accompanied him, and they brought the good news that Lady Latimer +was at Brentwood, and was coming to Hartwell the following week. + +Bessie Fairfax was certainly happier when there was company at +Abbotsmead, and she had a preference for Miss Burleigh's company; which +might be variously interpreted. Miss Burleigh herself considered Miss +Fairfax rather cold, but then Bessie was not expansive unless she loved +very fondly and familiarly. One day they fell a-talking of Mr. Laurence +Fairfax's wife, and Miss Burleigh suggested a cautious inquiry with a +view to obtaining Bessie's real sentiments respecting her. She received +the frankest exposition of them, with a bit of information to boot that +gave her a theme for reflection. + +"I think her a perfect jewel of a wife," said Bessie with genuine +kindness. "My uncle Laurence and she are quite devoted to one another. +She sings like a little bird, and it is beautiful to see her with those +boys. I wish we had them all at Abbotsmead. And she is _so_ pretty--the +prettiest lady I ever saw, except, perhaps, one." + +"And who was that one?" Miss Burleigh begged to know. + +"It was a Miss Julia Gardiner. I saw her first at Fairfield at the +wedding of Lady Latimer's niece, and again at Ryde the other day." + +"Oh yes! dear Julia was very lovely once, but she has gone off. The +Gardiners are very old friends of ours." Miss Burleigh turned aside her +face as she spoke. She had not heard before that Miss Fairfax had met +her rival and predecessor in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's affections: why had +her dear Cecil been so rash as to bring them in contact and give her the +opportunity of drawing inferences? That Bessie had drawn her inferences +truly was plain, from a soft blush and glance and a certain tone in her +voice as she mentioned the name of Miss Julia Gardiner, as if she would +deprecate any possible idea that she was taking a liberty. The subject +was not pursued. Miss Burleigh wished only to forget it; perhaps Bessie +had expected a confidential word, and was abashed at hearing none, for +she began to talk with eagerness, rather strained, of Lady Latimer's +promised visit to Hartwell. + +Lady Latimer's arrival was signalized by an immediate invitation to Mr. +Fairfax and his granddaughter to go over and lunch on a fixed day. +Bessie was never so impatient as till the day came, and when she mounted +Janey to ride to Hartwell she palpitated more joyously than ever she had +done yet since her coming into Woldshire. Her grandfather asked her why +she was so glad, but she found it difficult to tell him: because my lady +had come from the Forest seemed the root of the matter, as far as it +could be expressed. The squire looked rather glum, Macky remarked to +Mrs. Betts; and if she had been in his shoes wild horses should not have +drawn her into company with that proud Lady Latimer. The golden harvest +was all gone from the fields, and there was a change of hue upon the +woods--yellow and red and russet mingled with their deep green. The +signs of decay in the vivid life of Nature could not touch Bessie with +melancholy yet--the spring-tides of youth were too strong in her--but +Mr. Fairfax, glancing hither and thither over the bare, sunless +landscape, said, "The winter will soon be upon us, Elizabeth. You must +make the best of the few bright days that are remaining: very few and +very swift they seem when they are gone." + +Hartwell was as secluded amongst its evergreens and fir trees now as at +midsummer, but in the overcast day the house had a dull and unattractive +aspect. The maiden sisters sat in the gloomy drawing-room alone to +receive their guests, but after the lapse of a few minutes Lady Latimer +entered. She was dressed in rich black silk and lace--carefully dressed, +but the three years that had passed since Bessie Fairfax last saw her +had left their mark. Bessie, her heart swelling, her eyes shining with +emotion, moved to meet her, but Lady Latimer only shook hands with sweet +ceremoniousness, and she was instantly herself again. The likeness that +had struck the maiden sisters did not strike my lady, or, being warned +of it, she was on her guard. There was a momentary silence, and then +with cold pale face she turned to Mr. Fairfax, congratulated him on +having his granddaughter at home, and asked how long she had been at +Abbotsmead. Soon appeared Mr. Oliver Smith, anxious to talk election +gossip with his neighbor; and for a few minutes Bessie had Lady Latimer +to herself, to gaze at and admire, and confusedly to listen to, telling +Beechhurst news. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie charged me with innumerable kind words for +you--Jack wants you to go home before he goes to sea--Willie and Tom +want you to make tails for their kites--Miss Buff will send you a letter +soon--Mr. Wiley trusts you have forgiven him his forgetfulness of your +message." + +"Oh no, I have not. He lost me an opportunity that may come again I know +not when," said Bessie impetuously. + +"I must persuade your grandfather to lend you to me for a month next +spring, when the leaves are coming out and the orchards are in blossom; +or, if he cannot spare you then, when the autumn tints begin." + +"Oh, thank you! But I think the Forest lovely at all seasons--when the +boughs are bare or when they are covered with snow." + +Bessie would have been glad that the invitation should come now, without +waiting for next year, but that was not even thought of. Lady Latimer +was looking towards the gentlemen, more interested in their interests +than in the small Beechhurst chat that Bessie would never have tired of. +After a few minutes of divided attention my lady rose, and _a propos_ of +the Norminster election expressed her satisfaction in the career that +seemed to be opening for Mr. Cecil Burleigh: + +"Lord Latimer thought highly of him from a boy. He was often at Umpleby +in the holidays. He is like a son to my old friend at Brentwood; Lady +Angleby is happy in having a nephew who bids fair to attain distinction, +since her own sons prefer obscurity. She deplores their want of +ambition: it must be indeed a trial to a mother of her aspiring temper." +So my lady talked on, heard and not often interrupted; it was the old +voice and grand manner that Bessie Fairfax remembered so well, and once +so vastly reverenced. She did not take much more notice of Bessie. After +luncheon she chose to pace the lawn with her brother and Mr. Fairfax, +debating and predicting the course of public affairs, which shared her +thoughts with the government of Beechhurst. Bessie remained indoors with +the two quiet sisters, who were not disposed to forsake the fireside for +the garden: the wood-fire was really comfortable that clouded afternoon, +though September was not yet far advanced. Miss Charlotte sat by one of +the windows, holding back the curtain to watch the trio on the lawn, and +Bessie sat near, able to observe them too. + +"Dear Olympia is as energetic as ever, but, Juliana, don't you think she +is contracting a slight stoop to one side?" said Miss Charlotte. Miss +Juliana approached to look out. + +"She always did hang that arm. Dear Olympia! Still, she is a majestic +figure. She was one of the handsomest women in Europe, Miss Fairfax, +when Lord Latimer married her." + +"I can well imagine that: she is beautiful now when she smiles and +colors a little," said Bessie. + +"Ah, that smile of Olympia's! We do not often see it in these days, but +it had a magic. All the men were in love with her--she made a great +marriage. Lord Latimer was not one of our oldest nobility, but he was +very rich and his mansion at Umpleby was splendid, quite a palace, and +our Olympia was queen there." + +"We never married," said Miss Charlotte meekly. "It would not have done +for us to marry men who could not have been received at court, so to +speak--at Umpleby, I mean. Olympia said so at the time, and we agreed +with her. Dear Olympia was the only one of us who married, except +Maggie, our half-sister, the eldest of our father's children--Mrs. +Bernard's mother--and that was long before the great event in our +family." + +Bessie fancied there was a flavor of regret in these statements. + +Miss Juliana took up the thread where her sister had dropped it: "There +is our dear Oliver--what a perfect gentleman he was! How accomplished, +how elegant! If your sweet aunt Dorothy had not died when she did, he +might have been your near connection, Miss Fairfax. We have often urged +him to marry, if only for the sake of the property, but he has +steadfastly refused to give that good and lovely young creature a +successor. Our elder brother also died unmarried." + +Miss Charlotte chimed in again: "Lady Latimer moved for so many years in +a distinguished circle that she can throw her mind into public business. +We range with humble livers in content, and are limited to the politics +of a very small school and hamlet. You will be a near neighbor, Miss +Fairfax, and we hope you will come often to Hartwell: we cannot be Lady +Latimer to you, but we will do our best. Abbotsmead was once a familiar +haunt; of late years it has been almost a house shut up." + +Bessie liked the kindly, garrulous old ladies, and promised to be +neighborly. "I have been told," she said after a short silence, "that my +grandfather was devoted to Lady Latimer when they were young." + +"Your grandfather, my dear, was one amongst many who were devoted to +her," said Miss Juliana hastily. + +"No more than that? Oh, I hoped he was preferred above others," said +Bessie, without much reflecting. + +"Why hope it?" said Miss Charlotte in a saddened tone. "Dorothy thought +that he was, and resented Olympia's marriage with Lord Latimer as a +treachery to her brother that was past pardon. Oliver shared Dorothy's +sentiments; but we are all friends again now, thank God! Juliana's +opinion is, that dear Olympia cared no more for Richard Fairfax than she +cared for any of her other suitors, or why should she have married Lord +Latimer? Olympia was her own mistress, and pleased herself--no one else, +for we should have preferred Richard Fairfax, all of us. But she had her +way, and there was a breach between Hartwell and Abbotsmead for many +years in consequence. Why do we talk of it? it is past and gone. And +there they go, walking up and down the lawn together, as I have seen +them walk a hundred times, and a hundred to that. How strangely the old +things seem to come round again!" + +At that moment the three turned towards the house. Lady Latimer was +talking with great earnestness; Mr. Fairfax sauntered with his hands +clasped behind him and his eyes on the ground; Mr. Oliver Smith was not +listening. When they entered the room her grandfather said to Bessie, +"Come, Elizabeth, it is time we were riding home;" and when he saw her +wistful eyes turn to the visitor from the Forest, he added, "You have +not lost Lady Latimer yet. She will come over to Abbotsmead the day +after to-morrow." + +Bessie could not help being reminded by her grandfather's face and voice +of another old Beechhurst friend--Mr. Phipps. Perhaps this luncheon at +Hartwell had been pleasanter to her than to him, though even she had an +aftertaste of disappointment in it, because Lady Latimer no longer +dazzled her judgment. To the end my lady preserved her animation, and +when the visitors had mounted and were ready to ride away she still +engaged Mr. Fairfax's ear while she expounded her views of the mischief +that would accrue if ever election by ballot became the law of the land. + +"You must talk to Chiverton about that," said the squire, lifting his +hat and moving off. + +"I shall drive over to Castlemount to-morrow," said my lady; and she +accompanied her visitors to the gate with more last words on a variety +of themes that had been previously discussed and dismissed. + +All the way home the squire never once opened his mouth to speak; he +appeared thoroughly jaded and depressed and in his most sarcastic humor. +At dinner Bessie heard more bitter sentiments against her sex than she +had ever heard in her life before, and wondered whether they were the +residuum of his disappointed passion. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +_MY LADY REVISITS OLD SCENES_. + + +To meet Lady Latimer and Mr. Oliver Smith at Abbotsmead, Lady Angleby +and Mr. Cecil Burleigh came over from Brentwood. Bessie Fairfax was +sorry. She longed to have my lady to herself. She thought that she might +then ask questions about other friends in the Forest--about friends at +Brook--which she felt it impossible to ask in the presence of +uninterested or adverse witnesses. But Lady Latimer wished for no +confidential communications. She had received at Brentwood full +particulars of the alliance that was projected between the families of +Fairfax and Burleigh, and considered it highly desirable. My lady's +principle was entirely against any wilfulness of affection in young +girls. In this she was always consistent, and Bessie's sentimental +constancy to the idea of Harry Musgrave would have provoked her utter +disapproval. It was therefore for Bessie's comfort that no opportunity +was given her of betraying it. + +At luncheon the grand ladies introduced their philanthropic hobbies, and +were tedious to everybody but each other. They supposed the two young +people would be grateful to be left to entertain themselves; but Bessie +was not grateful at all, and her grandfather sat through the meal +looking terribly like Mr. Phipps--meditating, perhaps, on the poor +results in the way of happiness that had attended the private lives of +his guests, who were yet so eager to meddle with their neighbors' lives. +When luncheon was over, Lady Latimer, quitting the dining-room first, +walked through the hall to the door of the great drawing-room. The +little page ran quickly and opened to her, then ran in and drew back the +silken curtains to admit the light. The immense room was close yet +chill, as rooms are that have been long disused for daily purposes. + +"Ah, you do not live here as you used to do formerly?" she said to Mr. +Fairfax, who followed her. + +"No, we are a diminished family. The octagon parlor is our common +sitting-room." + +Bessie had promised Macky that some rainy day she would make a tour of +the house and view the pictures, but she had not done it yet, and this +room was strange to her. The elder visitors had been once quite familiar +with it. Lady Latimer pointed to a fine painting of the Virgin and +Child, and remarked, "There is the Sasso-Ferrato," then sat down with +her back to it and began to talk of political difficulties in Italy. Mr. +Cecil Burleigh was interested in Italy, so was Mr. Oliver Smith, and +they had a very animated conversation in which the others joined--all +but Bessie. Bessie listened and looked on, and felt not quite +happy--rather disenchanted, in fact. Lady Latimer was the same as +ever--she overflowed with practical goodness--but Bessie did not regard +her with the same simple, adoring confidence. Was it the influence of +the old love-story that she had heard? My lady seemed entirely free from +pathetic or tender memories, and domineered in the conversation here as +she did everywhere. Even Lady Angleby was half effaced, and the squire +had nothing to say. + +"I like her best at Fairfield," Bessie thought, but Bessie liked +everything best in the Forest. + +Just before taking her leave my lady said abruptly to the young lady of +the house, "An important sphere is open to you: I hope you will be able +to fill it with honor to yourself and benefit to others. You have an +admirable example of self-devotion, if you can imitate it, in Mrs. +Chiverton of Castlemount. She told me that you were school-fellows and +friends already. I was glad to hear it." + +These remarks were so distinctly enunciated that every eye was at once +attracted to Bessie's face. She colored, and with an odd, fastidious +twist of her mouth--the feminine rendering of the squire's cynical +smile--she answered, "Mrs. Chiverton has what she married for: God grant +her satisfaction in it, and save me from her temptation!" In nothing did +Bessie Fairfax's early breeding more show itself than in her audacious +simplicity of speech when she was strongly moved. Lady Latimer did not +condescend to make any rejoinder, but she remarked to Mr. Fairfax +afterward that habits of mind were as permanent as other habits, and she +hoped that Elizabeth would not give him trouble by her stiff +self-opinion. Mr. Fairfax hoped not also, but in the present instance he +had silently applauded it. And Mr. Burleigh was charmed that she had the +wit to answer so skilfully. + +When my lady was gone, Bessie grieved and vexed herself with +compunctious thoughts. But that was not my lady's last visit; she came +over with Miss Charlotte another afternoon when Mr. Fairfax was gone to +Norminster, and on this occasion she behaved with the gracious sweetness +that had fascinated her young admirer in former days. Bessie said she +was like herself again. At my lady's request Bessie took her up to the +white parlor. On the threshold she stopped a full minute, gazing in: +nothing of its general aspect was changed since she saw it last--how +long ago! She went straight to the old bookcase, and took down one of +Dorothy Fairfax's manuscript volumes and furled over the leaves. Miss +Charlotte drew Bessie to the window and engaged her in admiration of the +prospect, to leave her sister undisturbed. + +Presently my lady said, "Charlotte, do you remember these old books of +Dorothy's?" and Miss Charlotte went and looked over the page. + +"Oh yes. Dear Dorothy had such a pretty taste--she always knew when a +sentiment was nicely put. She was a great lover of the old writers." + +After a few minutes of silent reading my lady spoke again: "She once +recited to me some verses of George Herbert's--of when God at first made +man, how He gave him strength, beauty, wisdom, honor, pleasure, all to +keep, but with repining restlessness. They were a prophecy. I cannot +find them." She restored the volume to its shelf, quoting the last +lines--all she remembered distinctly: + + "Let him be rich and weary, that at last, + If goodness lead him not, yet weariness + May toss him to my breast." + +"I know; they are in the last volume, toward the end," said Bessie +Fairfax, and quickly found them. "They do not say that God gave man +love; and that is a craving too. Don't you think so?" + +Lady Latimer looked straight before her out of the window with lips +compressed. + +"What do you mean by love, my dear?--so many foolish feelings go by that +name," said Miss Charlotte, filling the pause. + +"Oh, I mean just love--the warm, happy feeling in my heart toward +everybody who belongs to me or is good to me--to my father and mother +and all of them at home, and to my grandfather now and my uncle +Laurence, and more besides." + +"You are an affectionate soul!" said my lady, contemplating her quietly. +"You were born loving and tender--" + +"Like dear Dorothy," added Miss Charlotte with a sigh. "It is a great +treasure, a warm heart." + +"Some of us have hearts of stone given us--more our misfortune than our +fault," said Lady Latimer with a sudden air of offence, and turned and +left the room, preceding the others down stairs. Bessie was startled; +Miss Charlotte made no sign, but when they were in the hall she asked +her sister if she would not like to see the gardens once more. Indeed +she would, she said; and, addressing Bessie with equanimity restored, +she reminded her how she had once told her that Abbotsmead was very +beautiful and its gardens always sunny, and she hoped that Bessie was +not disappointed, but found them answer to her description. Bessie said +"Yes," of course; and my lady led the way again--led the way everywhere, +and to and fro so long that Miss Charlotte was fain to rest at +intervals, and even Bessie's young feet began to ache with following +her. My lady recollected every turn in the old walks and noted every +alteration that had been made--noted the growth of certain trees, and +here and there where one had disappeared. "The gum-cistus is gone--that +lovely gum-cistus! In the hot summer evenings how sweet it was!--like +Indian spices. And my cedar--the cedar I planted--is gone. It might have +been a great tree now; it must have been cut down." + +"No, Olympia, it never grew up--it withered away; Richard Fairfax told +Oliver that it died," said Miss Charlotte. + +The ladies from Hartwell were still in the gardens when the squire came +home from Norminster, and on Jonquil's information he joined them there. +"Ah, Olympia! are you here?" he said. + +My lady colored, and looked as shy as a girl: "Yes; we were just going. +I am glad to have seen you to say good-bye." + +They did not, however, say good-bye yet; they took a turn together +amongst the old familiar places, Miss Charlotte and Bessie resting +meanwhile in the great porch, and philosophizing on what they saw. + +"Did you know grandpapa's wife--my grandmamma?" Bessie began by asking. + +"Oh yes, my dear. She was a sprightly girl before she married, but all +her life after she went softly. Mr. Fairfax was not an unkind or +negligent husband, but there was something wanting. She was as unlike +Olympia as possible--very plain and simple in her tastes and appearance. +She kept much at home, and never sought to shine in society--for which, +indeed, she was not fitted--but she was a good woman and fond of her +children." + +"And grandpapa was perfectly indifferent to her: it must have been +dreary work. Oh, what a pity that Lady Latimer did not care for him!" + +"She did care for him very much." + +"But if she cared for Umpleby more?" + +Miss Charlotte sighed retrospectively and said, "Olympia was ambitious: +she is the same still--I see no change. She longed to live in the +world's eye and to have her fill of homage--for Nature had gifted her +with the graces and talents that adorn high station--but she was never a +happy woman, never satisfied or at peace with herself. She ardently +desired children, and none were given her. I have often thought that she +threw away substance for shadow--the true and lasting joys of life for +its vain glories. But she had what she chose, and if it disappointed her +she never confessed to her mistake or avowed a single regret. Her pride +was enough to sustain her through all." + +"It is of no use regretting mistakes that must last a lifetime. But one +is sorry." + +The squire and Lady Latimer were drawing slowly towards the porch, +talking calmly as they walked. + +"Yes, one is sorry. Those two were well suited to each other once," said +Miss Charlotte. + +The Hartwell carriage came round the sweep, the Hartwell coachman--who +was groom and gardener too--not in the best of humors at having been +kept so long waiting. Lady Latimer, with a sweet countenance, kissed +Bessie at her leave-taking, and told her that permission was obtained +for her to visit Fairfield next spring. Then she got into the carriage, +and bowing and smiling in her exquisite way, and Miss Charlotte a little +impatient and tired, they drove off. Bessie, exhilarated with her rather +remote prospect of the Forest, turned to speak to her grandfather. But, +lo! his brief amenity had vanished, and he was Mr. Phipps again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +_A SUCCESS AND A REPULSE_. + + +The weather at the beginning of October was not favorable. There were +gloomy days of wind and rain that Bessie Fairfax had to fill as she +could, and in her own company, of which she found it possible to have +more than enough. Mr. Fairfax had acquired solitary tastes and habits, +and though to see Elizabeth's face at meal-times and to ride with her +was a pleasure, he was seldom at her command at other hours. Mrs. Stokes +was sociable and Mrs. Forbes was kind, but friends out of doors do not +compensate altogether for the want of company within. Sir Edward Lucas +rode or drove over rather frequently seeking advice, but he had to take +it from the squire after the first or second occasion, though his +contemporary would have given it with pleasure. Bessie resigned herself +to circumstances, and, like a well-brought-up young lady, improved her +leisure--practised her songs, sketched the ruins and the mill, and +learnt by heart some of the best pieces in her aunt Dorothy's collection +of poetry. + +Towards the middle of the month Mr. Cecil Burleigh came again, bringing +his sister with him to stay to the end of it. Bessie was very glad of +her society, and when her feminine acumen had discerned Miss Burleigh's +relations with the vicar she did not grudge the large share of it that +was given to his mother: she reflected that it was a pity these elderly +lovers should lose time. What did they wait for, Mr. Forbes and his +gentle Mary, Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his sweet Julia? She would have +liked to arrange their affairs speedily. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh went to and fro between Norminster and Abbotsmead as +his business required, and if opportunity and propinquity could have +advanced his suit, he had certainly no lack of either. But he felt that +he was not prospering with Miss Fairfax: she was most animated, amiable +and friendly, but she was not in a propitious mood to be courted. Bessie +was to go to Brentwood for the nomination-day, and to remain until the +election was over. By this date it had begun to dawn on other +perceptions besides Mr. Cecil Burleigh's that she was not a young lady +in love. His sister struggled against this conviction as long as she was +able, and when it prevailed over her hopefulness she ventured to speak +of it to him. He was not unprepared. + +"I am, after all, afraid, Cecil, that Miss Fairfax may turn out an +uninteresting person," she began diffidently. + +"Because I fail to interest her, Mary--is that it?" said her brother. + +"She perplexes me by her cool, capricious behavior. _Now_ I think her +very dear and sweet, and that she appreciates you; then she looks or +says something mocking, and I don't know what to think. Does she care +for any one else, I should like to know?" + +"Perhaps she made some such discovery at Ryde for me." + +"She told me of your meeting with the Gardiners there. Poor Julia! I +wish it could be Julia, Cecil." + +"I doubt whether it will ever be Miss Fairfax, Mary. She is the oddest +mixture of wit and simplicity." + +"Perhaps she has some old prepossession? She would not be persuaded +against her will." + +"All her prepossessions are in favor of her friends in the Forest. There +was a young fellow for whom she had a childish fondness--he was at +Bayeux when I called upon her there." + +"Harry Musgrave? Oh, they are like brother and sister; she told me so." + +"She is a good girl, and believes it, perhaps; but it is a +brother-and-sisterhood likely to lapse into warmer relations, given the +opportunity. That is what Mr. Fairfax is intent on hindering. My hope +was in her youth, but she is not to be won by the semblance of wooing. +She is either calmly unconscious or consciously discouraging." + +"How will Mr. Fairfax bear his disappointment?" + +"The recent disclosure of his son Laurence's marriage will lessen that. +It is no longer of the same importance who Miss Fairfax marries. She has +a great deal of character, and may take her own way. She is all anxiety +now to heal the division between the father and son, that she may have +the little boys over at Abbotsmead; and she will succeed before long. +The disclosure was made just in time, supposing it likely to affect my +intentions; but Miss Fairfax is still an excellent match for me--for me +or any gentleman of my standing." + +"I fancy Sir Edward Lucas is of that opinion." + +"Yes, Sir Edward is quite captivated, but he will easily console +himself. The squire has intimated to him that he has other views for +her; the young man is cool to me in consequence." + +Miss Burleigh became reflective: "Miss Fairfax's position is changed, +Cecil. A good connexion and a good dower are one thing, and an heiress +presumptive to Kirkham is another. Perhaps you would as lief remain a +bachelor?" + +"If Miss Fairfax prove impregnable--yes." + +"You will test her, then?" + +"Surely. It is in the bond. I have had her help, and will pay her the +compliment." + +Miss Burleigh regarded her brother with almost as much perplexity as she +regarded Miss Fairfax. The thought passed through her mind that he did +not wish even her to suspect how much his feelings were engaged in the +pursuit of that uncertain young lady because he anticipated a refusal; +but what she thought she kept to herself, and less interested persons +did not observe that there was any relaxation in the aspirant member's +assiduities to Miss Fairfax. Bessie accepted them with quiet simplicity. +She knew that her grandfather was bearing the main cost of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's canvass, and she might interpret his kindnesses as gratitude: +it cannot be averred that she did so interpret them, for she gave nobody +her confidence, but the plea was open to her. + +Lady Angleby welcomed Miss Fairfax on her second visit to Brentwood as +if she were already a daughter of the house. It had not entered into her +mind to imagine that her magnificent nephew could experience the slight +of a rejection by this unsophisticated, lively little girl. She had +quite reconciled herself to the change in Bessie's prospects, and looked +forward to the marriage with satisfaction undiminished: Mr. Fairfax had +much in his power with reference to settlements, and the conduct of his +son Laurence would be an excitement to use it to the utmost extent. His +granddaughter in any circumstances would be splendidly dowered. Nothing +could be prettier than Bessie's behavior during this critical short +interval before the election, and strangers were enchanted with her. A +few more persons who knew her better were falling into a state of +doubt--her grandfather amongst them--but nothing was said to her, for it +was best the state of doubt should continue, and not be converted into a +state of certainty until the crisis was over. + +It was soon over now, and resulted in the return of Mr. Cecil Burleigh +as the representative of Norminster in the Conservative interest, and +the ignominious defeat of Mr. Bradley. Once more the blue party held up +its head in the ancient city, and Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Chiverton, and +others, their Tory contemporaries, were at ease again for the safety of +the country. Mr. Burleigh the elder had come from Carisfort for the +election, and he now for the first time saw the young lady of whom he +had heard so much. He was a very handsome but very rustic poor squire, +who troubled the society of cities little. Bessie's beauty was perfect +to his taste, especially when her blushes were revived by a certain +tender paternal significance and familiarity in his address to her. But +when the blushes cooled her spirit of mischief grew vivacious to repel +their false confession, and even Lady Angleby felt for a moment +disturbed. Only for a moment, however. She wished that Mr. Burleigh +would leave his country manners at home, and ascribing Bessie's shy +irritation to alarmed modesty, introduced a pleasant subject to divert +her thoughts. + +"Is there to be a ball at Brentwood or no ball, Miss Fairfax?" said she +with amiable suggestion. "I think there was something mooted about a +ball if my nephew won his election, was there not?" + +What could Bessie do but feel appeased, and brighten charmingly?--"Oh, +we shall dance for joy if you give us one; but if you don't think we +deserve it--" said she. + +"Oh, as for your deserts--Well, Mary, we must have the dance for joy. +Cecil wishes it, and so, I suppose, do you all," said her ladyship with +comprehensive affability. Mr. Burleigh nodded at Bessie, as much as to +say that nothing could be refused her. + +Bessie blushed again. She loved a little pleasure, and a ball, a real +ball--Oh, paradise! And Mr. Cecil Burleigh coming in at the moment she +forgot her proper reticent demeanor, and made haste to announce to him +the delight that was in prospect. He quite entered into her humor, and +availed himself of the moment to bespeak her as his partner to open the +ball. + +It was settled that she should stay at Brentwood to help in the +preparations for it, and her grandfather left her there extremely +contented. Cards of invitation were sent out indiscriminately to blue +and orange people of quality; carpenters and decorators came on the +scene, and were busy for a week in a large empty room, converting it and +making it beautiful. The officers of the cavalry regiment stationed at +Norminster were asked, and offered the services of their band. Miss +Jocund and her rivals were busy morning, noon, and night in the +construction of aerial dresses, and all the young ladies who were bidden +to the dance fell into great enthusiasm when it was currently reported +that the new member, who was so handsome and so wonderfully clever, was +almost, if not quite, engaged to be married to that pretty, nice Miss +Fairfax, with whom they were all beginning to be more or less +acquainted. + +Mr. Fairfax did not return to Brentwood until the day of the dance. Lady +Angleby was anxious that it should be the occasion of bringing her +nephew's courtship to a climax, and she gave reasons for the expediency +of having the whole affair carried through to a conclusion without +unnecessary delays. Sir Edward Lucas had been intrusive this last week, +and Miss Fairfax too good-natured in listening to his tedious talk of +colliers, cottagers, and spade husbandry. Her ladyship scented a danger. +There was an evident suitability of age and temper between these two +young persons, and she had fancied that Bessie looked pleased when Sir +Edward's honest brown face appeared in her drawing-room. She had been +obliged to ask him to her ball, but she would have been thankful to +leave him out. + +Mr. Fairfax heard all his old friend had to urge, and, though he made +light of Sir Edward, it was with a startling candor that he added, "But +woman's a riddle indeed if Elizabeth would give her shoe-tie for Cecil." +Lady Angleby was so amazed and shocked that she made no answer +whatever. The squire went on: "The farce had better pause--or end. +Elizabeth is sensitive and shrewd enough. Cecil has no heart to give +her, and she will never give hers unless in fair exchange. I have +observed her all along, and that is the conclusion I have come to. She +saw Miss Julia Gardiner at Ryde, and fathomed that old story: she +supposes them to be engaged, and is of much too loyal a disposition to +dream of love for another woman's lover. That is the explanation of her +friendliness towards Cecil." + +"But Julia Gardiner is as good as married," cried Lady Angleby. "Cecil +will be cruelly disappointed if you forbid him to speak to Miss Fairfax. +Pray, say nothing, at least until to-night is over." + +"I shall not interfere at the present point. Let him use his own +discretion, and incur a rebuff if he please. But his visits to +Abbotsmead are pleasant, and I would prefer not to have either Elizabeth +annoyed or his visits given up." + +"You have used him so generously that whatever you wish must have his +first consideration," said Lady Angleby. She was extremely surprised by +the indulgent tone Mr. Fairfax assumed towards his granddaughter: she +would rather have seen him apply a stern authority to the management of +that self-willed young lady, for there was no denial that he, quite as +sincerely as herself, desired the alliance between their families. + +Mr. Fairfax had not chosen a very opportune moment to trouble her +ladyship's mind with his own doubts. She was always nervous on the eve +of an entertainment at Brentwood, and this fresh anxiety agitated her to +such a degree that Miss Burleigh suffered a martyrdom before her duty of +superintendence over the preparations in ball-room and supper-room was +accomplished. Her aunt found time to tell her Mr. Fairfax's opinions +respecting his granddaughter, and she again found time to communicate +them to her brother. To her prodigious relief, he was not moved thereby. +He had a letter from Ryde in his pocket, apprising him on what day his +dear Julia was to become Mrs. Brotherton; and he was in an elastic humor +because of his late success--just in the humor when a man of mature age +and sense puts his trust in Fortune and expects to go on succeeding. +Perhaps he had not consciously endeavored to detach his thoughts from +Julia, but a shade of retrospective reverie had fallen upon her image, +and if she was lost to him, Elizabeth Fairfax was, of all other women he +had known, the one he would prefer to take her place. He was quite sure +of this, though he was not in love. The passive resistance that he had +encountered from Miss Fairfax had not whetted his ardor much, but there +was the natural spirit of man in him that hates defeat in any shape; and +from his air and manner his sister deduced that in the midst of +uncertainties shared by his best friends he still kept hold of hope. +Whether he might put his fate to the touch that night would, he said, +depend on opportunity--and impulse. + +Such was the attitude of parties on the famous occasion of Lady +Angleby's ball to celebrate her nephew's successful election. Miss +Fairfax had been a great help to Miss Burleigh in arranging the fruit +and the flowers, and if Mrs. Betts had not been peremptory in making her +rest a while before dinner, she would have been as tired to begin with +as a light heart of eighteen can be. The waiting-woman had received a +commission of importance from Lady Angleby (nothing less than to find +out how much or how little Miss Fairfax knew of Miss Julia Gardiner's +past and present circumstances), and accident favored her execution of +it. A cheerful fire blazed on the hearth in Bessie's room; by the hearth +was drawn up the couch, and a newspaper lay on the couch. Naturally, +Bessie's first act was to take it up, and when she saw that it was a +_Hampton Chronicle_ she exclaimed with pleasure, and asked did Mrs. +Betts receive it regularly from her friends?--if so, she should like to +read it, for the sake of knowing what went on in the Forest. + +"No, miss, it only comes a time by chance: that came by this afternoon's +post. I have barely glanced through it. I expect it was sent by my +cousin to let me know the fine wedding that is on the _tapis_ at +Ryde--Mr. Brotherton, her master, and Miss Julia Gardiner." + +"Miss Julia Gardiner!" exclaimed Bessie in a low, astonished voice. + +Mrs. Betts, with an indifference that a more cunning young lady than +hers would have felt to be carefully prepared, proceeded with her +information: "Yes, miss; you met the lady, I think? The gentleman is +many years older, but a worthy gentleman. And she is a most sweet lady, +which, where there is children to begin with, is much to be considered. +She has no fortune, but there is oceans of money on his side--oceans." + +Bessie did not jump to the conclusion that it was therefore a mercenary +marriage, as she had done in another case. She forgot, for the moment, +her interest in the Forest news, and though she seemed to be +contemplating her beautiful dress for the evening laid out upon the bed, +the pensive abstraction of her gaze implied profounder thoughts. Mrs. +Betts busied herself with various little matters--sewed on faster the +rosette of a white shoe, and the buttons on the gloves that were to be +worn with that foam of silvery tulle. What Bessie was musing of she +could not herself have told; a confused sensation of pain and pity was +uppermost at first. Mrs. Betts stood at a distance and with her back to +her young mistress, but she commanded her face in the glass, and saw it +overspread slowly by a warm soft blush, and the next moment she was +asked, "Do you think she will be happy, Mrs. Betts?" + +"We may trust so, miss," said the waiting-woman, still feigning to be +fully occupied with her duties to her young lady's pretty things. "Why +should she not? She is old enough to know her mind, and will have +everything that heart can desire--won't she?" + +Bessie did not attempt any answer to this suggestive query. She put the +newspaper aside, and stretched herself with a sigh along the couch, +folding her hands under her cheek on the pillow. Her eyes grew full of +tears, and so she lay, meditating on this new lesson in life, until Mrs. +Betts warned her that it was time to dress for dinner. Miss Fairfax had +by this date so far accustomed herself to the usages of young ladies of +rank that Mrs. Betts was permitted to assist at her toilette. It was a +silent process this evening, and the penetration of the waiting-woman +was at fault when she took furtive glances in the mirror at the subdued +face that never smiled once, not even at its own beauty. She gave Lady +Angleby an exact account of what had passed, and added for +interpretation, "Miss Fairfax was surprised and sorry, I'm sure. I +should say she believed Miss Julia Gardiner to be attached to somebody +else. The only question she asked was, Did I think she would be happy?" +Lady Angleby could extract nothing out of this. + +Every one was aware of a change in Bessie when she went into the +drawing-room; she felt as one feels who has heard bad news, and must +conceal the impression of it. But the visible effect was that her +original shyness seemed to have returned with more than her original +pride, and she blushed vividly when Mr. Cecil Burleigh made her a low +bow of compliment on her beautiful appearance. Mr. Fairfax had enriched +his granddaughter that day with a suite of fine pearls, once his sister +Dorothy's, and Bessie had not been able to deny herself the ornament of +them, shining on her neck and arms. Her dress was white and bright as +sea-foam in sunshine, but her own inimitable blooming freshness made her +dress to be scarcely at all regarded. Every day at this period added +something to her loveliness--the loveliness of youth, health, grace, and +a good nature. + +When dinner was over the three young people adjourned to the ball-room, +leaving Lady Angleby and Mr. Fairfax together. Miss Burleigh and Bessie +began by walking up and down arm-in-arm, then they took a few turns in a +waltz, and after that Miss Burleigh said, "Cecil, Miss Fairfax and you +are a perfect height to waltz together; try the floor, and I will go and +play with the music-room door open. You will hear very well." She went +off quickly the moment she had spoken, and Bessie could not refuse to +try the floor, but she had a downcast, conscious air under her impromptu +partner's observation. Mr. Cecil Burleigh was in a gay, light mood, as +became him on this public occasion of his election triumph, and he was +further elated by Miss Fairfax's amiable condescension in waltzing with +him at his sister's behest; and as it was certainly a pleasure to any +girl who loved waltzing to waltz with him, they went on until the music +stopped at the sound of carriage-wheels. + +"You are fond of dancing, Miss Fairfax?" said her cavalier. + +"Oh yes," said Bessie with a pretty upward glance. She had enjoyed that +waltz extremely; her natural animation was reviving, too buoyant to lie +long under the depression of melancholy, philosophic reverie. + +The guests were received in the drawing-room, and began to arrive in +uninterrupted succession. Mr. and Mrs. Tindal, Lord and Lady Eden, Mr. +and Mrs. Philip Raymond, Mr. Maurice and Miss Lois Wynyard, Mrs. Lefevre +and Miss Jean Lefevre, Mr. and Mrs. Chiverton, Colonel Stokes and his +wife, and Sir Edward Lucas with an architectural scheme in his pocket; +however, he danced none the worse for it, as Miss Fairfax testified by +dancing with him three times. She had a charming audacity in evading +awkward partners, and it was observed that she waltzed only with the new +member. She looked in joyous spirits, and acknowledged no reason why she +should deny herself a pleasure. More than once in the course of the +evening she flattered Lady Angleby's hopes by telling her it was a most +delicious ball. + +Mr. Fairfax contemplated his granddaughter with serene speculation. Lady +Angleby had communicated to him the results of Mrs. Betts's inquisition. +At a disengaged moment he noticed a wondering pathos in Bessie's eyes, +which were following Mr. Cecil Burleigh's agile movements through the +intricate mazes of the Lancers' Quadrilles. His prolonged gaze ended by +attracting hers; she blushed and drew a long breath, and seemed to shake +off some persistent thought. Then she came and asked, like a +light-footed, mocking, merry girl, if he was not longing to dance too, +and would he not dance with her? He dismissed her to pay a little +attention to Mrs. Chiverton, who sat like a fine statue against the +wall, unsought of partners, and Bessie went with cheerful submission. +Her former school-rival was kind to her now with a patronizing, married +superiority that she did not dislike. Mrs. Chiverton knew from her +husband of the family project for Miss Fairfax's settlement in life, and +as she approved of Mr. Cecil Burleigh as highly as her allegiance to Mr. +Chiverton permitted her to approve of anybody but himself, she spoke at +some length in his praise, desiring to be agreeable. Bessie suffered her +to go on without check or discouragement; she must have understood the +drift of many things this evening which had puzzled her hitherto, but +she made no sign. Miss Burleigh said to her brother when they parted +for the night that she really did not know what to think or what to +advise, further than that Sir Edward Lucas ought to be "set down," or +there was no guessing how far he might be tempted to encroach. Miss +Fairfax, she considered, was too universally inclined to please. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh had no clear resolve of what he would do when he went +to walk in the garden the next morning. He knew what he wanted. A sort +of paradoxical exhilaration possessed him. He remembered his dear Julia +with tender, weary regret, and gave his fancy license to dwell on the +winsomeness of Bessie. And while it was so dwelling he heard her tuneful +tongue as she came with Miss Burleigh over the grass, still white with +hoar-frost where the sun had not fallen. He advanced to meet them. + +"Oh, Cecil, here you are! Mr. Fairfax has been inquiring for you, but +there is no hurry," said his sister, and she was gone. + +Bessie wore a broad shady hat, yet not shady enough to conceal the +impetuous blushes that mantled her cheeks on her companion's evasion. +She felt what it was the prelude to. Mr. Cecil Burleigh, inspired with +the needful courage by these fallacious signs, broke into a stammering +eloquence of passion that was yet too plain to be misunderstood--not +reflecting, he, that maiden blushes may have more sources than one. The +hot torrent of Bessie's rose from the fountain of indignation in her +heart--indignation at his inconstancy to the sweet lady who she knew +loved him, and his impertinence in daring to address herself when she +knew he loved that lady. She silently confessed that to this upshot his +poor pretences of wooing had tended from the first, and that she had +been wilfully half blind and wholly unbelieving--so unwilling are proud +young creatures to imagine that their best feelings can be traded +on--but she was none the less wrathful and scornful as she lifted her +eyes, dilated with tears, to his, and sweeping him a curtsey turned away +without a single word--without a single word, yet never was wooer more +emphatically answered. + +They parted and went different ways. Bessie, thinking she would give all +she was worth that he had held his peace and let her keep her dream of +pity and sympathy, took the shrubbery path to the village and Miss +Hague's cottage-lodgings; and Mr. Cecil Burleigh, repenting too late the +vain presumption that had reckoned on her youth and ignorance, apart +from the divining power of an honest soul, walked off to Norminster to +rid himself of his heavy sense of mortification and discomfiture. + +Miss Burleigh saw her brother go down the road, and knew what had +happened, and such a pang came with the certainty that only then did she +realize how great had been her former confidence. She stood a long while +at her window, listening and watching for Miss Fairfax's return to the +house, but Bessie was resting in Miss Hague's parlor, hearing anecdotes +of her father and uncles when they were little boys, and growing by +degrees composed after her disturbing emotion. She wished to keep the +morning's adventure to herself, or, if the story must be told, to leave +the telling of it to Mr. Cecil Burleigh; and when she went back to the +house, the old governess accompanying her, she betrayed no counsel by +her face: that was rosy with the winter cold, and hardly waxed rosier +when Lady Angleby expressed a wish to know what she had done with her +nephew, missing since breakfast. Bessie very simply said that she had +only seen him for a minute, and she believed that he had gone into the +town; she had been paying a long-promised visit to Miss Hague. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh, reappearing midway the afternoon, was summoned to +his aunt's closet and bidden to explain himself. The explanation was far +from easy. Lady Angleby was profoundly irritated, and reproached her +nephew with his blundering folly in visiting Miss Julia Gardiner in Miss +Fairfax's company. She refused to believe but that his fascination must +have proved irresistible if Miss Fairfax had not been led to the +discovery of that faded romance. Was he quite sure that the young lady's +answer was conclusive? Perfectly conclusive--so conclusive that he +should not venture to address her again. "Not after Julia's marriage?" +his sister whispered. Lady Angleby urged a temporary retreat and then a +new approach: it was impossible but that a fine, spirited girl like Miss +Fairfax must have ambition and some appreciation of a distinguished +mind; and how was her dear Cecil to support his position without the +fortune she was to bring him? At this point Mr. Cecil Burleigh +manifested a contemptuous and angry impatience against himself, and rose +and left the discussion to his grieved and disappointed female +relatives. Mr. Fairfax, on being informed of the repulse he had +provoked, received the news calmly, and observed that it was no more +than he had anticipated. + +Towards evening Bessie felt her fortitude failing her, and did not +appear at dinner nor in the drawing-room. Her excuses were understood +and accepted, and in the morning early Mr. Cecil Burleigh conveyed +himself away by train to London, that his absence might release her from +seclusion. Before he went, in a consultation with his aunt and Mr. +Fairfax, it was agreed that the late episode in his courtship should be +kept quiet and not treated as final. Later in the day Mr. Fairfax +carried his granddaughter home to Abbotsmead, not unconsoled by the +reflection that he was not to be called upon to resign her to make +bright somebody else's hearth. Bessie was much subdued. She had passed a +bad night, she had shed many tears, and though she had not encountered +one reproach, she was under the distressing consciousness that she had +vexed several people who had been good to her. At the same time there +could not be two opinions of the wicked duplicity of a gentleman who +could profess to love and wish to marry her when his heart was devoted +to another lady: she believed that she never could forgive him that +insult. + +Yet she was sorry even to tears again when she remembered him in the +dull little drawing-room at Ryde, and Miss Julia Gardiner telling him +that she had forgotten her old songs which he liked better than her new +ones; for it had dawned upon her that this scene--it had struck her then +as sad--must have been their farewell, the _finis_ to the love-chapter +of their youth. Bessie averted her mind from the idea that Miss Julia +Gardiner had consented to marry a rich, middle-aged gentleman who was a +widower: she did not like it, it was utterly repugnant, she hated to +think of it. Oh, that people would marry the right people, and not care +so much for rank and money! Lady Angleby's loveliest sister had forty +years ago aggrieved her whole family by marrying the poor squire of +Carisfort; and Lady Angleby had said in Bessie's hearing that her +sister was the most enviable woman she knew, happy as the day was long, +though so positively indigent as to be thankful for her eldest +daughter's half-worn Brentwood finery to smarten up her younger girls. +It must indeed be a cruel mistake to marry the wrong person. So far the +wisdom and sentiment of Bessie Fairfax--all derived from observation or +most trustworthy report--and therefore not to be laughed at, although +she was so young. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +_A HARD STRUGGLE_. + + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh's departure to town so immediately after Lady +Angleby's ball might have given rise to remark had he not returned to +Brentwood before the month's end, and in excellent spirits. During his +brief absence he had, however, found time to run down to the Isle of +Wight and see Miss Julia Gardiner. In all trouble and vexation his +thoughts still turned to her for rest. + +Twice already a day had been named for the marriage, and twice it had +been deferred to please her. It now stood fixed for February--"A good +time to start for Rome and the Easter festivals," she had pleaded. Mr. +Brotherton was kindness itself in consideration for her wishes, but her +own family felt that poor Julia was making a long agony of what, if it +were to be done at all, were best done quickly. When Mr. Cecil Burleigh +went to Ryde, he expected to find the preparations for the wedding very +forward, but nothing seemed to have been begun. The young ladies were +out walking, but Mrs. Gardiner, who had written him word that the 10th +of December was the day, now told him almost in the first breath that it +was put off again until the New Year. + +"We shall all be thankful to have it over. I never knew dear Julia so +capricious or so little thoughtful for others," said the poor languid, +weary lady. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh heard the complaint with a miserable compassion, and +when Julia came in, and her beautiful countenance broke into sunshine +at the sight of him, he knew what a cruel anticipation for her this +marriage really was. He could have wished for her sake--and a little for +his own too--that the last three months were blotted from their history; +but when they came to talk together, Julia, with the quick discernment +of a loving woman, felt that the youthful charms of Miss Fairfax had +warmly engaged his imagination, though he had so much tenderness of +heart still left for herself. + +He did not stay long, and when he was going he said that it would have +been wiser never to have come: it was a selfish impulse brought him--he +wanted to see her. Julia laughed at his simple confession; her sister +Helen was rather angry. + +"Now, I suppose you will be all unsettled again, Julia," said she, +though Julia had just then a most peaceful face. Helen was observant of +her: "I know what you are dreaming--while there is the shadow of a +chance that Cecil will return to you, Mr. Brotherton will be left +hanging between earth and heaven." + +"Oh, Nellie, I wish you would marry Mr. Brotherton yourself. Your +appreciation of his merits is far higher than mine." + +"If I were in your place I would not use him as you do: it _is_ a shame, +Julia." + +"It is not you who are sentenced to be buried alive, Nellie. I dare not +look forward: I dread it more and more--" + +"Of course. That is the effect of Cecil's ill-judged visit and Mary +Burleigh's foolish letter. Pray, don't say so to mamma; it would be +enough to lay her up for a week." + +Julia shut her eyes and sighed greatly. "Fashionable marriages are +advertised with the tag of 'no cards;' you will have to announce mine as +'under chloroform.' Nellie, I never can go through with it," was her +cry. + +"Oh, Julia," remonstrated her sister, "don't say that. If you throw over +Mr. Brotherton, half our friends will turn their backs upon us. We have +been wretchedly poor, but we have always been well thought of." + +Miss Julia Gardiner's brief joy passed in a thunder-shower of passionate +tears. + +It was not intended that the rebuff Mr. Cecil Burleigh had received +from Miss Fairfax should be generally known even by his friends, but it +transpired nevertheless, and was whispered as a secret in various +Norminster circles. Buller heard it, but was incredulous when he saw the +new member in his visual spirits; Mrs. Stokes guessed it, and was +astonished; Lady Angleby wrote about it to Lady Latimer with a petition +for advice, though why Lady Latimer should be regarded as specially +qualified to advise in affairs of the heart was a mystery. She was not +backward, however, in responding to the request: Let Mr. Cecil Burleigh +hold himself in reserve until Miss Julia Gardiner's marriage was an +accomplished fact, and then let him come forward again. Miss Fairfax had +behaved naturally under the circumstances, and Lady Latimer could not +blame her. When the young lady came to Fairfield in the spring, +according to her grandfather's pledge, Mr. Cecil Burleigh should have +the opportunity of meeting her there, but meanwhile he ought not +entirely to give up calling at Abbotsmead. This Mr. Cecil Burleigh could +not do without affronting his generous old friend--to whom Bessie gave +no confidence, none being sought--but he timed his first visit during +her temporary absence, and she heard of it as ordinary news on her +return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +_A VISIT TO CASTLEMOUNT._ + + +Bessie Fairfax had been but a few days at home after the Brentwood +rejoicings when there came for her an invitation from Mrs. Chiverton to +spend a week at Castlemount. She was perfectly ready to go--more ready +to go than her grandfather was to part with her. She read him the letter +at breakfast; he said he would think about it, and at luncheon he had +not yet made up his mind. Before post-time, however, he supposed he must +let her choose her own associates, and if she chose Mrs. Chiverton for +old acquaintance' sake, he would not refuse his consent, but Mr. +Chiverton and he were not on intimate terms. + +Bessie went to Castlemount under escort of Mrs. Betts. Mrs. Chiverton +was rejoiced to welcome her. "I like Miss Fairfax, because she is +honest. Her manner is a little brusque, but she has a good heart, and we +knew each other at school," was her reason given to Mr. Chiverton for +desiring Bessie's company. They got on together capitally. Mrs. +Chiverton had found her course and object in life already, and was as +deeply committed to philanthropic labors and letters as either Lady +Latimer or Lady Angleby. They were both numbered amongst her +correspondents, and she promised to outvie them in originality and +fertility of resource. What she chiefly wanted at Castlemount was a good +listener, and Bessie Fairfax, as yet unprovided with a vocation, showed +a fine turn that way. She reposed lazily at the end of Mrs. Chiverton's +encumbered writing-table, between the fire and the window, and heard her +discourse with infinite patience. Bessie was too moderate ever to join +the sisterhood of active reformers, but she had no objection to their +activity while herself safe from assaults. But when she was invited to +sign papers pledging herself to divers serious convictions she demurred. +Mrs. Chiverton said she would not urge her. Bessie gracefully +acquiesced, and Mrs. Chiverton put in a more enticing plea: "I can +scarcely expect to interest you in my occupations all at once, but they +bring to me often the most gratifying returns. Read that letter." + +Bessie read that letter. "Very honeyed phrases," said she with her odd +twist of the mouth, so like her grandfather. It was from a more +practised philanthropist than the young lady to whom it was addressed, +and was in a strain of fulsome adulation, redolent of gratitude for +favors to come. Religious and benevolent egotism is impervious to the +tiny sting of sarcasm. Mrs. Chiverton looked complacently lofty, and +Bessie had not now to learn how necessary to her was the incense of +praise. Once this had provoked her contempt, but now she discerned a +certain pathos in it; she had learnt what large opportunity the craving +for homage gives to disappointment. "You cannot fail to do some good +because you mean well," she said after the perusal of more letters, more +papers and reports. "But don't call me heartless and unfeeling because +I think that distance lends enchantment to the view of some of your +pious and charitable objects." + +"Oh no; I see you do not understand their necessity. I am busy at home +too. I am waging a crusade against a dreadful place called Morte, and a +cottage warfare with our own steward. These things do not interest Mr. +Chiverton, but he gives me his support. I tell him Morte must disappear +from the face of the earth, but there is a greedy old agent of Mr. +Gifford's, one Blagg, who is terribly in the way. Then I have +established a nursery in connection with the school, where the mothers +can leave their little children when they go to work in the fields." + +"Do they work in the fields hereabouts?" + +"Oh yes--at hoeing, weeding and stone-picking, in hay-time and harvest. +Some of them walk from Morte--four miles here and four back. There is a +widow whose husband died on the home-farm--it was thought not to answer +to let widows remain in the cottages--this woman had five young +children, and when she moved to Morte, Mr. Chiverton kindly kept her on. +I want her to live at our gates." + +"And what does she earn a day?" + +"Ninepence. Of course, she has help from the parish as well--two +shillings a week, I think, and a loaf for each child besides." + +A queer expression flitted over Bessie's face; she drew a long breath +and stretched her arms above her head. + +"Yes, I feel it is wrong: the widow of a laborer who died in Mr. +Chiverton's service, who spends all her available strength in his +service herself, ought not to be dependent on parish relief. I put it to +him one day with the query, Why God had given him such great wealth? A +little house, a garden, the keep of a cow, a pig, would have made all +the difference in the world to her, and none to him, except that her +children might have grown up stout and healthy, instead of ill-nurtured +and weakly. But you are tired. Let us go and take a few turns in the +winter-garden. It is the perfection of comfort on a windy, cold day like +this." + +Bessie acceded with alacrity. Castlemount was not the building of one +generation, but it owed its chief glories to its present master. Mr. +Chiverton had found it a spacious country mansion, and had converted it +into a palace of luxury and a museum of art--one reason why Morte had +thriven and Chiver-Chase become almost without inhabitant. Bessie +Fairfax was half bewildered amongst its magnificences, but its +winter-garden was to her the greatest wonder of all. She was not, +however, sufficiently acclimatized to an artificial temperature to enjoy +it long. "It is delicious, but as we are not hot-house ferns, a good +stretch over that upland would be, perhaps, more delicious still: it is +cold, but the sun shines," she said after two turns under the moist +glass. + +"We must not change the air too suddenly," Mrs. Chiverton objected. "The +wind is very boisterous." + +"There is a woman at work in it; is it your widow?" Bessie asked, +pointing down a mimic orange-grove. + +"Yes--poor thing! how miserably she is clothed! I must send her out one +of my knitted kerchiefs." + +"Oh yes, do," said Bessie; and the woollen garment being brought, she +was deputed to carry it to the weeding woman. + +On closer view she proved to be a lean, laborious figure, with an +anxious, weather-beaten face, which cleared a little as she received the +mistress's gift. It was a kerchief of thick gray wool, to cross over in +front and tie behind. + +"It will be a protection against the cold for my chest; I suffered with +the inflammation badly last spring," she said, approving it. + +"Put it on at once; it is not to be only looked at," said Bessie. + +The woman proceeded to obey, but when she wanted to tie it behind she +found a difficulty from a stiffness of one shoulder, and said, "It is +the rheumatics, miss; one catches it being out in the wet." + +"Let me tie it for you," said Bessie. + +"Thank you, miss, and thank the mistress for her goodness," said the +woman when it was done, gazing curiously at the young lady. And she +stooped again to her task, the wind making sport with her thin and +scanty skirts. + +Bessie walked farther down the grove, green in the teeth of winter. She +was thinking that this poor widow, work and pain included, was not less +contented with her lot than herself or than the beautiful young lady who +reigned at Castlemount. Yet it was a cruelly hard lot, and might be +ameliorated with very little thought. "Blessed is he that considereth +the poor," says the old-fashioned text, and Bessie reflected that her +proud school-fellow was in the way of earning this blessing. + +She was confirmed in that opinion on the following day, when the weather +was more genial, and they took a drive together in the afternoon and +passed through the hamlet of Morte. It had formed itself round a +dilapidated farm-house, now occupied as three tenements, in one of which +lived the widow. The carriage stopped in the road, and Mrs. Chiverton +got out with her companion and knocked at the door. It was opened by a +shrewd-visaged, respectable old woman, and revealed a clean interior, +but very indigent, with the tea-table set, and on a wooden stool by the +hearth a tall, fair young woman sitting, who rose and dropt a smiling +curtsey to Miss Fairfax: she was Alice, the second housemaid at +Abbotsmead, and waited on the white suite. She explained that Mrs. Macky +had given her leave to walk over and see her mother, but she was out at +work; and this was her aunt Jane, retired from service and come to live +at home with her widowed sister. + +An old range well polished, an oven that would not bake, and a boiler +that would not hold water,--this was the fireplace. The floor was of +bricks, sunken in waves and broken; through a breach in the roof of the +chamber over the "house" blew the wind and leaked the rain, in spite of +a sack stuffed with straw thrust between the rafters and the tiles. + +"Yes, ma'am, my poor sister has lived in this place for sixteen years, +and paid the rent regularly, three pounds a year: I've sent her the +money since she lost her husband," said the retired servant, in reply to +some question of Mrs. Chiverton's. "Blagg is such a miser that he won't +spend a penny on his places; it is promise, promise for ever. And what +can my poor sister do? She dar'n't affront him, for where could she go +if she was turned out of this? There's a dozen would jump at it, houses +is so scarce and not to be had." + +"There ought to be a swift remedy for wretches like Blagg," Mrs. +Chiverton indignantly exclaimed when they were clear of the +foul-smelling hamlet. "Why cannot it be an item of duty for the rural +police to give information of his extortion and neglect? Those poor +women are robbed, and they are utterly helpless to resist it. It is a +greater crime than stealing on the highway." + +"Do any of grandpapa's people live at Morte?" Bessie asked. + +"No, I think not; they are ours and Mr. Gifford's, and a colony of +miserable gentry who exist nobody can tell how, but half their time in +jail. It was a man from Morte who shot our head-keeper last September. +Poor wretch! he is waiting his trial now. When I have paid a visit to +Morte I always feel indifferent to my beautiful home." + +Bessie Fairfax felt a sharp pang of compunction for her former hard +judgment of Mrs. Chiverton. If it was ever just, time and circumstances +were already reversing it. The early twilight overtook them some miles +from Castlemount, but it was still clear enough to see a picturesque +ivied tower not far removed from the roadside when they passed +Carisfort. + +Bessie looked at it with interest. "That is not the dwelling-house--that +is the keep," Mrs. Chiverton said. "The house faces the other way, and +has the finest view in the country. It is an antiquated place, but +people can be very good and happy there." + +The coachman had slackened speed, and now stopped. A gentleman was +hastening down the drive--Mr. Forbes, as it turned out on his nearer +approach. The very person she was anxious to see! Mrs. Chiverton +exclaimed; and they entered on a discussion of some plan proposed +between them for the abolition of Morte. + +"I can answer for Mr. Chiverton's consent. Mr. Gifford is the +impracticable person. And of course it is Blagg's interest to oppose us. +Can we buy Blagg out?" said the lady. + +"No, no; that would be the triumph of iniquity. We must starve him out," +said the clergyman. + +More slowly there had followed a lady--Miss Burleigh, as Bessie now +perceived. She came through the gate, and shook hands with Mrs. +Chiverton before she saw who her companion in the carriage was, but when +she recognized Bessie she came round and spoke to her very pleasantly: +"Lady Augleby has gone to Scarcliffe to meet one of her daughters, and +I have a fortnight's holiday, which I am spending at home. You have not +been to Carisfort: it is such a pretty, dear old place! I hope you will +come some day. I am never so happy anywhere as at Carisfort;" and she +allowed Bessie to see that she included Mr. Forbes in the elements of +her happiness there. Bessie was quite glad to be greeted in this +friendly tone by Mr. Cecil Burleigh's sister; it was ever a distress to +her to feel that she had hurt or vexed anybody. She returned to +Castlemount in charming spirits. + +On entering the drawing-room before dinner there was a new arrival--a +slender little gentleman who knelt with one knee on the centre ottoman +and turned over a volume of choice etchings. He moved his head, and +Bessie saw a visage familiar in its strangeness. He laid the book down, +advanced a step or two with a look of pleased intelligence, bowed and +said, "Miss Fairfax!" Bessie had already recognized him. "Mr. Christie!" +said she, and they shook hands with the utmost cordiality. The world is +small and full of such surprises. + +"Then you two are old acquaintances? Mr. Christie is here to paint my +portrait," said Mrs. Chiverton. + +The meeting was an agreeable episode in their visit. At dinner the young +artist talked with his host of art, and Bessie learnt that he had seen +Italy, Spain, Greece, that he had friends and patrons of distinction, +and that he had earned success enough to set him above daily cares. Mr. +Chiverton had a great opinion of his future, and there was no better +judge in the circle of art-connoisseurs. + +"Mr. Christie has an exquisite taste and refinement--feelings that are +born in a man, and that no labor or pains can enable him to acquire," +her host informed Bessie. It was these gifts that won him a commission +for a portrait of the beautiful Mrs. Chiverton, though he was not +professedly a painter of portraits. + +After dinner, Miss Fairfax and he had a good talk of Beechhurst, of +Harry Musgrave, and other places and persons interesting to both. Bessie +asked after that drop-scene, at the Hampton theatre, and Mr. Christie, +in nowise shy of early reminiscences, gave her an amusing account of how +he worked at it. Then he spoke of Lady Latimer as a generous soul who +had first given him a lift, and of Mr. Carnegie as another effectual +helper. "He lent me a little money--I have long since paid it back," he +whispered to Bessie. He was still plain, but his countenance was full of +intelligence, and his air and manner were those of a perfectly simple, +cultivated, travelled gentleman. He did salaam to nobody now, for in his +brief commerce with the world he had learnt that genius has a rank of +its own to which the noblest bow, and ambition he had none beyond +excelling in his beloved art. Harry Musgrave was again, after long +separation, his comrade in London. He said that he was very fond of +Harry. + +"He is my constant Sunday afternoon visitor," he told Bessie. "My +painting-room looks to the river, and he enjoys the sunshine and the +boats on the water. His own chambers are one degree less dismal than +looking down a well." + +"He works very hard, does he not?--Harry used to be a prodigious +worker," said Bessie. + +"Yes, he throws himself heart and soul into whatever he undertakes, +whether it be work or pleasure. If he had won that fellowship the other +day I should have been glad. It would have made him easier." + +"I did not know he was trying for one. How sorry I am! It must be very +dull studying law." + +"He lightens that by writing articles for some paper--reviews of books +chiefly. There are five years to be got through before he can be called +to the bar--a long probation for a young fellow in his circumstances." + +"Oh, Harry Musgrave was never impatient: he could always wait. I am +pleased that he has taken to his pen. And what a resource you must be to +each other in London, if only to tell your difficulties and +disappointments!" + +"Oh yes, I am in all Musgrave's secrets, and he in mine," said Christie. +"A bachelor in chambers has not a superfluity of wants; he is short of +money now and then, but that is very much the case with all of us." + +Bessie laughed carelessly. "Poor Harry!" said she, and recollected the +tragical and pathetic stories of the poets that they used to discuss, +and of which they used to think so differently. She did not reflect how +much temptation was implied in the words that told her Harry was short +of money now and then. A degree of hardship to begin with was nothing +more than all her heroes had encountered, and their biography had +commonly succeeded in showing that they were the better for it--unless, +indeed, they were so unlucky as to die of it--but Harry had far too much +force of character ever to suffer himself to be beaten; in all her +visions he was brave, steadfast, persistent, and triumphant. She said so +to Mr. Christie, adding that they had been like brother and sister when +they were children, and she felt as if she had a right to be interested +in whatever concerned him. Mr. Christie looked on the carpet and said, +"Yes, yes," he remembered what friends and comrades they were--almost +inseparable; and he had heard Harry say, not so very long ago, that he +wished Miss Fairfax was still at hand when his spirits flagged, for she +used to hearten him more than anybody else ever did. Bessie was too much +gratified by this reminiscence to think of asking what the +discouragements were that caused Harry to wish for her. + +The next day Mrs. Chiverton's portrait was begun, and the artist was as +happy as the day was long. His temper was excellent unless he were +interrupted at his work, and this Mr. Chiverton took care should not +happen when he was at home. But one morning in his absence Mr. Gifford +called on business, and was so obstinate to take no denial that Mrs. +Chiverton permitted him to come and speak with her in the +picture-gallery, where she was giving the artist a sitting. Bessie +Fairfax, who had the tact never to be in the way, was there also, +turning over his portfolio of sketches (some sketches on the beach at +Yarmouth greatly interested her), but she looked up with curiosity when +the visitor entered, for she knew his reputation. + +He was a fat man of middle age, with a thin voice and jerky manner. "I +had Forbes yesterday, Mrs. Chiverton, to speak to me in your name," he +announced. "Do you know him for the officious fellow he is, for ever +meddling in other people's matters? For ten years he has pestered me +about Morte, which is no concern of mine." + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Gifford, it is very much your concern," Mrs. +Chiverton said with calm deliberation. "Eleven laborers, employed by +farmers on your estate, representing with their families over thirty +souls, live in hovels at Morte owned by you or your agent Blagg. They +are unfit for human habitation. Mr. Chiverton has given orders for the +erection of groups of cottages sufficient to house the men employed on +our farms, and they will be removed to them in the spring. But Mr. +Fairfax and other gentlemen who also own land in the bad neighborhood of +Morte object to the hovels our men vacate being left as a harbor for the +ragamuffinery of the district. They require to have them cleared away; +most of these, again, are in Blagg's hands." + +"The remedy is obvious: those gentlemen do not desire to be munificent +at Blagg's expense--let them purchase his property. No doubt he has his +price." + +"Yes, Mr. Gifford, but a most extortionate price. And it is said he +cannot sell without your consent." + +Mr. Gifford grew very red, and with stammering elocution repelled the +implication: "Blagg wants nobody's consent but his own. The fact is, the +tenements pay better to keep than they would pay to sell; naturally, he +prefers to keep them." + +"But if you would follow Mr. Chiverton's example, and let the whole +place be cleared of its more respectable inhabitants at one blow, he +would lose that inducement." + +Mr. Gifford laughed, amazed at this suggestion--so like a woman, as he +afterwards said. "Blagg has served me many years--I have the highest +respect for him. I cannot see that I am called on to conspire against +his interests." + +Mrs. Chiverton's countenance had lost its serenity, and would not soon +recover it, but Bessie Fairfax could hardly believe her ears when the +artist muttered, "Somebody take that chattering fool away;" and up he +jumped, cast down his palette, and rushed out of the gallery. Mrs. +Chiverton looked after him and whispered to Bessie, "What is it?" "Work +over for the day," whispered Bessie again, controlling an inclination to +laugh. "The temperament of genius disturbed by the intrusion of +unpleasant circumstances." Mrs. Chiverton was sorry; perhaps a walk in +the park would recompose the little man. There he was, tearing over the +grass towards the lake. Then she turned to Mr. Gifford and resumed the +discussion of Morte, with a warning of the terrible responsibility he +incurred by maintaining that nest of vice and fever; but as it was +barren of results it need not be continued. + +The next day the painter worked without interruption. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +_BESSIE'S PEACEMAKING._ + + +When Bessie Fairfax returned from Castlemount she learnt for a first +piece of news that Mr. Cecil Burleigh had spent two days of her absence +at Abbotsmead, and that he had only left in the morning. To this +information her grandfather added that he had seen in his time +unsuccessful lovers, more dejected. Bessie laughed and blushed, and said +she was glad to hear he was in good spirits; and this was their first +and last allusion to the crowning episode of her visit to Brentwood. The +squire gave her one searching look, and thought it wisdom to be silent. + +The green rides of the woods and glades of the park were all encumbered +with fallen leaves. The last days of autumn were flown, and winter was +come. The sound of the huntsman's horn was heard in the fields, and the +squire came out in his weather-stained scarlet coat to enjoy the sport +which was the greatest pleasure life had left for him. One fine soft +morning at the end of November the meet was at Kirkham turnpike, and +Abbotsmead entertained the gentlemen of the hunt at breakfast. + +Bessie rode a little way with her grandfather, and would have ridden +farther, but he sent her back with Ranby. Mr. Cecil Burleigh had once +expressed a prejudice against foxhunting ladies, and when Mr. Fairfax +saw his granddaughter the admiration of the miscellaneous gathering, and +her acquaintance claimed by even Mr. Gifford, he adopted it. Bessie was +disappointed. She liked the exercise, the vivacity of the sport, and +Janey went so beautifully; but when her grandfather spoke she quietly +submitted. Sir Edward Lucas, though he was charmed with her figure on +horseback, was still more charmed by her obedience. + +The burden of Bessie's present life threatened to be the tedium of +nothing to do. She could not read, practise her songs, and learn poetry +by heart all the hours of the day: less than three sufficed her often. +If she had been bred in a country-house, she would have possessed +numerous interests that she inevitably lacked. She was a stranger +amongst the villagers--neither old nor young knew her. There was little +suffering to engage her sympathy or poverty to invite her help. At +Kirkham there were no long-accumulated neglects to reform as there was +at Morte, and to Morte Mr. Fairfax forbade her to go. She had a liberal +allowance, and not half ways enough to spend it, so she doubled her +allowance to Miss Hague on behalf of her former pupils, Geoffry and +Frederick; Laurence paid his own. + +She was not a girl of many wants, and her taste did not incline to idle +expenditure. She had seen thrift and the need of thrift in her early +home, and thought money much too valuable to be wasted in buying things +she did not require. Where she saw a necessity she was the freest of +givers, but she had experience, gained in her rides with Mr. Carnegie, +against manufacturing objects of sentimental charity. + +Her resource for a little while was the study of the house and +neighborhood she lived in. There was a good deal of history connected +with Kirkham. But it was all contained in the county gazetteer; and when +Macky had instructed her in the romance of the family, and the legends +attached to the ruins by the river and the older portions of the +mansion, all was learnt that there was to know, and the sum of her +reflections announced aloud was, that Abbotsmead was a very big house +for a small family. Macky shook her head in melancholy acquiescence. + +The December days were very long, and the weather wild and stormy both +by land and sea. Bessie conjectured sometimes when her uncle Frederick +would come home, but it appeared presently that he was not coming. He +wrote that he had laid up the Foam in one of the Danish ports to be +ready for the breaking up of the winter and a further exploration of the +Baltic coasts, and that he was just starting on a journey into +Russia--judging that the beauty of the North is in perfection during the +season of ice and snow. + +"Just like one of Fred's whims!" said his father discontentedly. "As if +he could not have come into Woldshire and have enjoyed the hunting! +Nobody enjoyed it more than he did formerly." + +He did not come, however, and Bessie was not astonished. Under other +circumstances Abbotsmead might have been a cheerful house, but it seemed +as if no one cared to make it cheerful now: if the days got over +tranquilly, that was enough. The squire and his granddaughter dined +alone day after day, Mr. Forbes relieved their monotony on Sundays, and +occasionally Mr. Oliver Smith came for a night. Society was a toil to +Mr. Fairfax. He did not find his house dull, and would have been +surprised to know that Elizabeth did. What could she want that she had +not? She had Janey to ride, and Joss, a companionable dog, to walk with; +she had her carriage, and could drive to Hartwell as often as she +pleased; and at her gates she had bright little Mrs. Stokes for company +and excellent Mrs. Forbes for counsel. Still, Bessie felt life stagnant +around her. She could not be interested in anything here without an +effort. The secret of it was her hankering after the Forest, and partly +also her longing for those children. To have those dear little boys over +from Norminster would cheer her for the whole winter; but how to compass +it? Once she thought she would bring them over without leave asked, but +when she consulted Mrs. Stokes, she was assured that it would be a +liberty the squire would never forgive. + +"I am not afraid of being never forgiven," rejoined Bessie. "I shall do +some desperate act one of these days if I am kept idle. Think of the +echoes in this vast house answering only the slamming of a door! and +think of what they would have to answer if dear little unruly Justus +were in the old nursery!" + +Mrs. Stokes laughed: "I am only half in sympathy with you. Why did you +discourage that fascinating Mr. Cecil Burleigh? A young lady is never +really occupied until she is in love." + +Bessie colored slightly. "Well," she said, "I am in love--I am in love +with my two little boy-cousins. What do you advise? My grandfather has +never mentioned them. It seems as if it would be easier to set them +before him than to speak of them." + +"I should not dare to do that. What does Mr. Laurence Fairfax say? What +does his wife say?" + +"Not much. My grandfather is treating them precisely as he treated my +father and my mother--just letting them alone. And it would be so much +pleasanter if we were all friends! I call it happiness thrown away. I +have everything at Abbotsmead but that. It is not like a home, and the +only motive there was for me to try and root there is taken away since +those boys came to light." + +"Your future prospects are completely changed. You bear it very well." + +"It is easy to bear what I am truly thankful for. Abbotsmead is nothing +to me, but those boys ought to be brought up in familiarity with the +place and the people. I am a stranger, and I don't think I am very apt +at making humble friends. To enjoy the life one ought to begin one's +apprenticeship early. I wonder why anybody strains after rank and +riches? I find them no gain at all. I still think Mr. Carnegie the best +gentleman I know, and his wife as true a gentlewoman as any. You are +smiling at my partiality. Shall you be shocked if I add that I have met +in Woldshire grand people who, if they were not known by their titles, +would be reckoned amongst the very vulgar, and gentry of old extraction +who bear no brand of it but that disagreeable manner which is qualified +as high-bred insolence?" + +Mrs. Stokes held all the conventionalities in sincere respect. She did +not understand Miss Fairfax, and asked who, then, of their acquaintance +was her pattern of a perfect lady. Bessie instanced Miss Burleigh. "Her +sweet graciousness is never at fault, because it is the flower of her +beautiful disposition," said she. + +"I should never have thought of her," said Mrs. Stokes reflectively. +"She is very good. But to go back to those boys: do nothing without +first speaking to Mr. Fairfax." + +Bessie demurred, and still believed her own bolder device the best, but +she allowed herself to be overruled, and watched for an opportunity of +speaking. Undoubtedly, Mr. Fairfax loved his granddaughter with more +respect for her independent will than he might have done had they been +together always. He had denied her no reasonable request yet, and he +granted her present prayer so readily that she was only sorry she had +not preferred it earlier. + +"Grandpapa, you will give me a Christmas gift, will you not?" she said +one evening after dinner about a week before that festive season. + +"Yes, Elizabeth. What would you like?" was his easy reply. It was a +satisfaction to hear that she had a wish. + +"I should like to have my two little cousins from Norminster--Justus and +Laury. They would quite enliven us." + +Mr. Fairfax was evidently taken by surprise. Still, he did not rebuke +her audacity. He was silent for a minute or two, as if reflecting, and +when he answered her it was with all the courtesy that he could have +shown towards a guest for whose desires he was bound to feel the utmost +deference. "Certainly, Elizabeth," said he. "You have a right to be +here, as I told you at your first coming, and it would be hard that I +should forbid you any visitor that would enliven you. Have the little +boys, by all means, if you wish it, and make yourself as happy as you +can." + +Elizabeth thanked him warmly. "I will write to-morrow. Oh, I know they +may come--my uncle Laurence promised me," said she. "And the day before +Christmas Eve, Mrs. Betts and I will go for them. I am so glad!" + +Mr. Fairfax did not check her gay exuberance, and all the house heard +what was to be with unfeigned joy. Mrs. Stokes rejoiced too, and pledged +her own sons as playfellows for the little visitors. And when the +appointed time came, Bessie did as she had said, and made a journey to +Norminster, taking Mrs. Betts with her to bring the children over. Their +father and pretty young mother consented to their going with the less +reluctance because it seemed the first step towards the re-establishment +of kindly relations with the offended squire; and Sally was sent with +them. + +"Next Christmas you will come too," said Bessie, happier than any queen +in the exercise of her office as peacemaker, and important also as +being put in charge of those incomparable boys, for Sally was, of +course, under superior orders. + +The first drawback to her intense delight was a whimper from Laury as he +lost sight of his mamma, and the next drawback was that Justus asked to +be taken home again the moment the train reached Mitford Junction. These +little troubles were quickly composed, however, though liable, of +course, to break out again; and Bessie felt flushed and uneasy lest the +darling boys should fail of making a pleasant first impression on +grandpapa. Alas for her disquiets! She need have felt none. Jonquil +received her at the door with a sad countenance; and Macky, as she came +forward to welcome the little gentlemen, betrayed that her temper had +been tried even to tears not very long before. Jonquil did not wait to +be inquired of respecting his master, but immediately began to say, in +reply to his young lady's look of troubled amazement, "The squire, miss, +has gone on a journey. I was to tell you that he had left you the house +to yourself." + +"Gone on a journey? But he will return before night?" said Bessie. + +"No, miss. We are to expect him this day week, when Mr. Laurence's +children have gone back to Norminster," explained the old servant in a +lower voice. + +Bessie comprehended the whole case instantly. Macky was relieving her +pent feelings by making a fuss with the little boys, and giving Mrs. +Betts her mind on the matter. The group stood disconcerted in the hall +for several minutes, the door open and the low winter sun shining upon +them. Bessie did not speak--she could not. She gazed at the children, +pale herself and trembling all over. Justus began to ask where was +grandpapa, and Laury repeated his question like a lisping echo. There +was no answer to give them, but they were soon pacified in the old +nursery where their father had played, and were made quite happy with a +grand parade of new toys on the floor, expressly provided for the +occasion. Bed-time came early, and Bessie was relieved when it did come. +Never in the whole course of her life had she felt so hurt, so insulted, +so injured; and yet she was pained, intensely pained, for the old man +too. Perhaps he had meant her to be so, and that was her punishment. +Jonquil could give her no information as to whither his master had +gone, but he offered a conjecture that he had most probably gone up to +London. + +If it was any comfort to know that the old servants of the house +sympathized with her, Bessie had that. They threw themselves heart and +soul into the work of promoting the pleasure of the little visitors. +Jonquil proved an excellent substitute for grandpapa, and Macky turned +out an inexhaustible treasury of nice harmless things to eat, of funny +rhymes to sing, and funny stories to tell in a dramatic manner. Still, +it was a holiday spoilt. It was not enjoyed in the servants' hall nor in +the housekeeper's room. No amount of Yule logs or Yule cakes could make +a merry Christmas of it that year. All the neighbors had heard with +satisfaction that Mr. Fairfax's little grandsons were to be brought to +Abbotsmead, and such as had children made a point of coming over with +them, so that the way in which Miss Fairfax's effort at peacemaking had +failed was soon generally known, and as generally disapproved. Mrs. +Stokes, that indignant young matron, qualified the squire's behavior as +"Quite abominable!" but she declared that she would not vex herself if +she were Miss Fairfax--"No, indeed!" Bessie tried hard not. She tried to +be dignified, but her disappointment was too acute, and her +grandfather's usage of her too humiliating, to be borne with her +ordinary philosophy. + +She let her uncle Laurence know what had happened by letter, and on the +day fixed for the children to go home again she went with them, attended +by Mrs. Betts as before. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was half amused at the +method by which his father had evaded Bessie's bold attempt to rule him, +and his blossom of a wife was much too happy to care for the old +squire's perversity unless he cared; but they were both sorry for +Bessie. + +"My grandfather lets me have everything but what I want," she said with +a tinge of rueful humor. "He surrounds me with every luxury, and denies +me the drink of cold water that I thirst for. I wish I could escape from +his tyranny. We were beginning to be friends, and this has undone it +all. A refusal would not have been half so unkind." + +"There is nothing but time to trust to," said her uncle Laurence. "My +father's resentment is not active, but it lasts." + +Bessie was quite alone that long evening, the last of the old year: at +Beechhurst or at Brook there was certainly a party. Nor had she any +intimation of the time of her grandfather's return beyond what Jonquil +had been able to give her a week ago. He had not written since he left, +and an accumulation of letters awaited him in his private room, Jonquil +having been unable to forward any for want of an address. The dull +routine of the house proceeded for three days more, and then the master +reappeared at luncheon without notice to anybody. + +Mr. Fairfax took his seat at the table, ate hungrily, and looked so +exactly like himself, and so unconscious of having done anything to +provoke anger, to give pain or cause anxiety, that Bessie's imaginary +difficulties in anticipation of his return were instantly removed. He +made polite inquiries after Janey and Joss, and even hoped that Bessie +had been enlivened by her little cousins' visit. She would certainly not +have mentioned them if he had not, but, as he asked the question, she +was not afraid to answer him. + +"Yes," said she, "children are always good company to me, especially +boys; and they behaved so nicely, though they are very high-spirited, +that I don't think they would have been inconvenient if you had stayed +at home." + +"Indeed? I am glad to hear they are being well brought up," said the +squire; and then he turned to Jonquil and asked for his letters. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +_ABBOTSMEAD IN SHADOW._ + + +Mr. Fairfax's letters were brought to him, and after glancing cursorily +through the batch, he gathered them all up and went off to his private +room. Bessie conjectured that he would be busy for the rest of the +afternoon, and she took a walk in the park until dusk, when she returned +to the house and retired to her own parlor. The dressing-bell rang at a +quarter to seven, as usual, and Mrs. Betts came to assist at her young +lady's toilet. Being dressed, Bessie descended to the octagon room, +which she found empty. + +It was a fine, frosty night, and the sky was full of stars. She put +aside a curtain and looked out into the wintry garden, feeling more than +ever alone and desolate amidst the grandeur of her home. It seemed as if +the last unkindness she had suffered was the worst of all, and her heart +yearned painfully towards her friends in the Forest. Oh, for their +simple, warm affection! She would have liked to be sitting with her +mother in the old-fashioned dining-room at Beechhurst, listening for the +doctor's return and the clink of Miss Hoyden's hoofs on the hard frozen +road, as they had listened often in the winters long ago. She forgot +herself in that reverie, and scarcely noticed that the door had been +opened and shut again until her grandfather spoke from the hearth, +saying that Jonquil had announced dinner. + +The amiable disposition in which the squire had come home appeared to +have passed off completely. Bessie had seen him often crabbed and +sarcastic, but never so irritable as he was that evening. Nothing went +right, from the soup to the dessert, and Jonquil even stirred the fire +amiss. Some matter in his correspondence had put him out. But as he made +no allusion to his grievance, Bessie was of course blind and deaf to his +untoward symptoms. The next day he went to Norminster to see Mr. John +Short, and came back in no better humor--in a worse humor if +possible--and Mrs. Stokes whispered to Bessie the explanation of it. + +Mr. Fairfax had inherited a lawsuit with a small estate in Durham, +bequeathed to him by a distant connexion, and this suit, after being for +years a blister on his peace, had been finally decided against him. The +estate was lost, and the plague of the suit with it, but there were +large costs to pay and the time was inconvenient. + +"Your grandfather contributed heavily to the election of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh in the prospect of an event which it seems is not to be," +concluded the little lady with reproachful significance. "My Arthur told +me all about it (Mr. Fairfax consults him on everything); and now there +are I don't know how many thousands to pay in the shape of back rents, +interest, and costs, but it is an immense sum." + +Bessie was sorry, very sorry, and showed it with so much sense and +sympathy that her grandfather presently revealed his vexations to her +himself, and having once mentioned them, he found her a resource to +complain to again. She hoped that he would get over his defeat the +sooner for talking of it, but he did not. He was utterly convinced that +he had right on his side, and he wanted a new trial, from which Mr. John +Short could hardly dissuade him. The root of his profound annoyance was +that Abbotsmead must be encumbered to pay for the lost suit, unless his +son Frederick, who had ready money accumulated from the unspent fortune +of his wife, would come to the rescue. In answer to his father's appeal +Frederick wrote back that a certain considerable sum which he mentioned +was at his service, but as for the bulk of his wife's fortune, he +intended it to revert to her family. Mr. Laurence Fairfax made, through +the lawyer, an offer of further help to keep Abbotsmead clear of +mortgages, and with the bitter remark that it was Laurence's interest to +do so, the squire accepted his offer. + +So much at this crisis did Bessie hear of money and the burden and +anxiety of great estates that she thought poverty must be far +preferable. The squire developed a positively bad temper under his +worries. And he was not irritable only: by degrees he became ill, and +yet would have no advice. Jonquil was greatly troubled about him, and +when he refused to mount his horse one splendid hunting morning in +February, though he was all equipped and ready, Bessie also began to +wonder what ailed him besides crossness, for he was a man of strong +constitution and not subject to fanciful infirmities. + +Early in March, Mr. Frederick Fairfax wrote home that his Russian tour +was accomplished, and that he was impatient to be on board his yacht +again. The weather was exceedingly rough and tempestuous later in the +month, and the squire, watching the wrack of the storm on the wolds, +often expressed anxiety lest his son should be rash and venturesome +enough to trust himself out of port in such weather. Everybody was +relieved when April opened with sunny showers and the long and severe +winter seemed to be at an end. It had not made Bessie more in love with +her life at Abbotsmead: there had, indeed, been times of inexpressible +dreariness in it very trying to her fortitude. With the dawning of +brighter days in spring she could not but think of the Forest with fresh +longing, and she watched each morning's post for the arrival of that +invitation to Fairfield which Lady Latimer had promised to send. At +length it came, and after brief demur received a favorable answer. The +squire had a mortified consciousness that his granddaughter's life was +not very cheerful, and, though he did not refuse her wish, he was unable +to grant it heartily. However, the fact of his consent overcame the +manner of it, and Bessie was enjoying the pleasures of anticipation, and +writing ecstatically to her mother, when an event happened that threw +Abbotsmead into mourning and changed the bent even of her desires. + +One chilly evening after dinner, when she had retreated to the octagon +parlor, and was dreaming by the fireside in the dusk alone, Jonquil, +with visage white as a ghost, ushered in Mr. John Short. He had walked +over from Mitford Junction, in the absence of any vehicle to bring him +on, and was jaded and depressed, though with an air of forced composure. +As Jonquil withdrew to seek his master the lawyer advanced into the +firelight, and Bessie saw at once that he came on some sad errand. Her +grandfather had gone, she believed, to look after his favorite hunter, +which had met with a severe sprain a week ago; but she was not sure, for +he had been more and more restless for some time past, had taken to +walking at unaccustomed hours, to neglecting his correspondence, leaving +letters for days unopened, and betraying various other signs of a mind +unsettled and disturbed. It had appeared to Bessie that he was always in +a state of distressed expectancy, but what for she had no idea. The +appearance of Mr. John Short without previous notice suggested new +vexation connected with the lawsuit, but when she asked if he were again +the messenger of bad news, he startled her with a much more tragical +announcement. + +"I am sorry to say that I am, Miss Fairfax. Mr. Frederick has not lived +much at home of late years, but I fear that it will be a terrible shock +to his father to hear that he is lost," said Mr. John Short. + +"Lost!" echoed Bessie. "Lost! Oh where? Poor grandpapa!" + +"On the Danish coast. His yacht was wrecked in one of the gales of last +month, and all on board perished. The washing ashore of portions of the +wreck leaves no doubt of the disaster. The consul at the nearest port +communicated with the authorities in London, and the intelligence +reached me some days ago in a form that left little to hope. This +morning the worst was confirmed." + +Bessie sat down feeling inexpressibly sorrowful. "Grandpapa is out +somewhere--Jonquil is seeking him. Oh, how I wish I could be more of a +help and comfort to him!" she said, raising her eyes to the lawyer's +face. + +"It is a singular thing, Miss Fairfax, but your grandfather never seems +to want help or comfort like other men. He shuts himself up and +broods--just broods--when he is grieved or angry. He was very genial and +pleasant as a young man, but he had a disappointment of the affections +that quite soured him. I do not know that he ever made a friend of any +one but his sister Dorothy. They were on the Continent for a year after +that affair, and she died in Italy. He was a changed man when he came +home, and he married a woman of good family, but nobody was, perhaps, +more of a stranger to him than his own wife. It was generally remarked. +And he seemed to care as little for her children as he did for her. I +have often been surprised to see that he was indifferent whether they +came to Abbotsmead or not; yet the death of Mr. Geoffry, your father, +hurt him severely, and Mr. Frederick's will be no less a pain." + +"I wish I had not vexed him about my uncle Laurence's boys. We were +becoming good friends before," said Bessie. + +"Oh, the squire will not bear malice for that. He discriminates between +the generosity of your intention towards the children, and what he +probably mistook for a will to rule himself. He acted very perversely in +going out of the way." + +"Does my uncle Laurence know the news you bring?" + +"Yes, but he desired me to be the first medium of it. Jonquil is a long +while seeking his master." + +A very long while. So long that Bessie rang the bell to inquire, and +the little page answered it. The master was not come in, he said; they +had sent every way to find him. Bessie rose in haste, and followed by +Mr. John Short went along the passage to her grandfather's private room. +That was dark and empty, and so was the lobby by which it communicated +with the garden and the way to the stables. She was just turning back +when she bethought her to open the outer door, and there, at the foot of +the steps on the gravel-walk, lay the squire. She did not scream nor +cry, but ran down and helped to carry him in, holding his white head +tenderly. For a minute they laid him on the couch in the justice-room, +and servants came running with lights. + +"It is not death," said Mrs. Betts, peering close in the unconscious +face. "The fire is out here: we will move him to his chamber at once." + +As they raised him again one stiffened hand that clutched a letter +relaxed and dropped it. The lawyer picked it up and gave it to Miss +Fairfax. It was a week old--a sort of official letter recording the +wreck of the Foam and the loss of her crew. The suddenness and tragical +character of the news had been too much for the poor father. In the +shock of it he had apparently staggered into the air and had fallen +unconscious, smitten with paralysis. Such was the verdict of Mr. Wilson, +the general practitioner at Mitford, who arrived first upon the scene, +and Dr. Marks, the experienced physician from Norminster, who came in +the early morning, supported his opinion. The latter was a stranger to +the house, and before he left it he asked to see Miss Fairfax. + +The night had got over between waiting and watching, and Bessie had not +slept--had not even lain down to rest. She begged that Dr. Marks might +be shown to her parlor, and Mr. John Short appeared with him. Mrs. Betts +had put over her shoulders a white cachemire wrapper, and with her fair +hair loosened and flowing she sat by the window over-looking the fields +and the river where the misty morning was breaking slowly into sunshine. +Both the gentlemen were impressed by a certain power in her, a fortitude +and gentleness combined that are a woman's best strength in times of +trouble and difficulty. They could speak to her without fear of creating +fresh embarrassment as plainly as it was desirable that they should +speak, for she was manifestly aware of a responsibility devolving upon +her. + +"Though I apprehend no immediate danger, Miss Fairfax, it is to be +regretted that this sad moment finds Mr. Fairfax at variance with his +only surviving son," said Dr. Marks. "Mr. Laurence Fairfax ought to be +here. It is probable that his father has not made a final disposition of +his affairs; indeed, I understand from Mr. John Short that he has not +done so." + +"Oh, does that matter now?" said Bessie. + +"Mr. Fairfax's recovery might be promoted if his mind were quite at +ease. If he should wish to transact any business with his lawyer, you +may be required to speak of your own wishes. Do not waste the favorable +moment. The stroke has not been severe, and I have good hopes of +restoration, but when the patient is verging on seventy we can never be +sure." + +Dr. Marks went away, leaving Mr. Wilson to watch the case. Mr. John +Short then explained to Bessie the need there was that she should be +prepared for any event: a rally of consciousness was what he hoped for, +perfect, whether tending to recovery or the precursor of dissolution. +For he knew of no will that Mr. Frederick had made, and he knew that +since the discovery of Mr. Laurence's marriage the squire had destroyed +the last will of his own making, and that he had not even drawn out a +rough scheme of his further intentions. The entailed estates were of +course inalienable--those must pass to his son and his son's son--but +there were houses and lands besides over which he had the power of +settlement. Bessie listened, but found it very hard to give her mind to +these considerations, and said so. + +"My uncle Laurence is the person to talk to," she suggested. + +"Probably he will arrive before the day is over, but you are to be +thought of, you are to be provided for, Miss Fairfax." + +"Oh, I don't care for myself at all," said Bessie. + +"The more need, then, that some one else should care for you," replied +Mr. John Short. + +Inquirers daily besieged Abbotsmead for news of the squire. Mr. +Laurence Fairfax came over, and Mr. John Short stayed on, expecting his +opportunity, while slowly the old man recovered up to a certain point. +But his constitution was permanently weakened and his speech indistinct. +Jonquil, Macky, and Mrs. Betts were his nurses, and the first person +that he was understood to ask for was Elizabeth. Bessie was so glad of +his recollection that she went to him with a bright face--the first +bright face that had come about his bed yet--and he was evidently +pleased. She took up one of his hands and stroked and kissed it, and +knelt down to bring herself nearer to him, all with that affectionate +kindness that his life had missed ever since his sister Dorothy died. + +"You are better, grandpapa; you will soon be up and out of doors again," +said she cheerfully. + +He gave her no answer, but lay composed with his eyes resting upon her. +It was doubtful whether the cause of his illness had recurred to his +weakened memory, for he had not attempted to speak of it. She went on to +tell him what friends and neighbors had been to ask after his +health--Mr. Chiverton, Sir Edward Lucas, Mr. Oliver Smith--and what +letters to the same purport she had received from Lady Latimer, Lady +Angleby, Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and others, to which she had replied. He +acknowledged each item of her information with a glance, but he made no +return inquiries. + +Mr. Chiverton had called that day, and the form in which he carried +intelligence home to his wife was, "Poor Fairfax will not die of this +bout, but he has got his first warning." + +Mrs. Chiverton was sorry, but she did not refrain from speculating on +how Miss Fairfax would be influenced in her fortunes by the triple +catastrophe of her uncle Laurence's marriage, her uncle Frederick's +death, and her grandfather's impending demise. "I suppose if Mr. +Laurence were unmarried, as all the world believed him to be, she would +stand now as the greatest prospective heiress in this part of the +county. If it was her fortune Mr. Cecil Burleigh wanted, he has had a +deliverance." + +"I am far from sure that Burleigh thinks so," returned Mr. Chiverton +significantly. + +"Oh, I imagined that projected marriage was one of convenience, a family +compact." + +"In the first instance so it was. But the young lady's rosy simplicity +caught Burleigh's fancy, and it is still in the power of Mr. Fairfax to +make his granddaughter rich." + +Whether Mr. Fairfax would make his granddaughter rich was debated in +circles where it was not a personal interest, but of course it was +discussed with much livelier vivacity where it was. Lady Angleby +expressed a confident expectation that as Miss Fairfax had been latterly +brought up in anticipation of heiress-ship, her grandfather would endow +her with a noble fortune, and Miss Burleigh, with ulterior views for her +brother, ventured to hope the same. But Mr. Fairfax was in no haste to +set his house in order. He saw his son Laurence for a few minutes twice, +but gave him no encouragement to linger at Abbotsmead, and his reply to +Mr. John Short on the only occasion when he openly approached the +subject of will-making was, "There is time enough yet." + +The household was put into mourning, but as there was no bringing home +of the dead and no funeral, the event of the eldest son's death passed +with little outward mark. Elizabeth was her grandfather's chief +companion in-doors, and she was cheerful for his sake under +circumstances that were tryingly oppressive. To keep up to her duty she +rode daily, rain or fair, and towards the month's end there were many +soft, wet days when all the wolds were wrapt in mist. People watched her +go by often, with Joss at Janey's heels, and Ranby following behind, and +said they were sorry for Miss Fairfax; it was very sad for so young a +girl to have to bear, unsupported, the burden of her grandfather's +declining old age. For the squire was still consistent in his obstinacy +in refusing to be gracious to his son and his son's wife and children, +and Bessie, on her uncle Laurence's advice, refrained from mentioning +them any more. Old Jonquil alone had greater courage. + +One evening the squire, after lying long silent, broke out with, "Poor +Fred is gone!" the first spontaneous allusion to his loss that he had +made. + +Jonquil hastened to him. "My dear master, my dear master!" he lamented. +"Oh, sir, you have but one son now! forgive him, and let the little boys +come home--for your own sake, dear master." + +"They will come home, as you call it, when I follow poor Fred. My son +Laurence stands in no need of forgiveness--he has done me no wrong. +Strange women and children would be in my way; they are better where +they are." Thus had the squire once answered every plea on behalf of his +son Geoffry. Jonquil remembered very well, and held his peace, sighing +as one without hope. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +_DIPLOMATIC._ + + +Bessie Fairfax gave up her visit to the Forest of her own accord in her +pitying reluctance to leave her grandfather. She wrote to Lady Latimer, +and to her mother more at length. They were disappointed, but not +surprised. + +"Now they will prove what she is--a downright good girl, not an atom of +selfishness about her," said Mr. Carnegie to his wife with tender +triumph. + +"Yes, God bless her! Bessie will wear well in trouble, but I am very +wishful to see her, and hear her own voice about that gentleman Lady +Latimer talked of." Lady Latimer had made a communication to the +doctor's wife respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh. + +Mr. Carnegie had nothing to advise. He felt tolerably sure that Bessie +would tell her mother every serious matter that befell her, and as she +had not mentioned this he drew the inference that it was not serious. + +The first warm days of summer saw Mr. Fairfax out again, walking in the +garden with a stick and the support of his granddaughter's shoulder. She +was an excellent and patient companion, he said. Indeed, Bessie could +forget herself entirely in another's want, and since this claim for care +and helpfulness had been made upon her the tedium of life oppressed her +no more. It was thus that Mr. Cecil Burleigh next saw her again. He had +taken his seat in the House, and had come down to Brentwood for a few +days; and when he called to visit his old friend, Jonquil sent him round +to the south terrace, where Mr. Fairfax was walking with Bessie in the +sun. + +In her black dress Bessie looked taller, more womanly, and there was a +sweet peace and kindness in her countenance, which, combined with a +sudden blush at the sight of him, caused him to discover in her new +graces and a more touching beauty than he had been able to discern +before. Mr. Fairfax was very glad to see him, and interested to hear all +he had to tell. Since he had learnt to appreciate at their real worth +his granddaughter's homely virtues, his desire for her union with this +gentleman had revived. He had the highest opinion of Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's disposition, and he would be thankful to put her in his +keeping--a jewel worth having. + +Presently Bessie was released from her attendance, and the visitor took +her place: her grandfather wished to speak to Mr. Cecil Burleigh alone. +He began by reverting to the old project of their marriage, and was +easily satisfied with an assurance that the gentleman desired it with +all his heart. Miss Julia Gardiner's wedding had not yet taken place. +She had been delicate through the winter, and Mr. Brotherton had +succumbed to a sharp attack of gout in the early spring. So there had +been delay after delay, but the engagement continued in force, and Mr. +Cecil Burleigh had not repeated his indecorous visit. He believed that +he was quite weaned from that temptation. + +Mr. Fairfax gave him every encouragement to renew his siege to +Elizabeth, and promised him a dower with her if he succeeded that should +compensate for her loss of position as heiress of Abbotsmead. It was an +understood thing that Mr. Cecil Burleigh could not afford to marry a +scantily-portioned wife, and a whisper got abroad that Miss Fairfax was +to prosper in her fortunes as she behaved, and to be rich or poor +according as she married to please her grandfather or persevered in +refusing his choice. If Bessie heard it, she behaved as though she heard +it not. She went on being good to the old man with a most complete and +unconscious self-denial--read to him, wrote for him, walked and drove +with him at his will and pleasure, which began to be marked with all the +exacting caprice of senility. And the days, weeks, months slipped round +again to golden September. Monotony abridges time, and, looking behind +her, Bessie could hardly believe that it was over a year ago since she +came home from France. + +One day her grandfather observed or imagined that she looked paler than +her wont. He had a letter in his hand, which he gave to her, saying, +"You were disappointed of your visit to Fairfield in the spring, +Elizabeth: would you like to go now? Lady Latimer renews her invitation, +and I will spare you for a week or two." + +Oh, the surprise and delight of this unexpected bounty! Bessie blushed +with gratitude. She was the most grateful soul alive, and for the +smallest mercies. Lady Latimer wrote that she should not find Fairfield +dull, for Dora Meadows was on a long stay there, and she expected her +friend Mr. Logger, and probably other visitors. Mr. Fairfax watched his +granddaughter narrowly through the perusal of the document. There could +be no denial that she was eagerness itself to go, but whether she had +any motive deeper than the renewal of love with the family amidst which +she had been brought up, he could not ascertain. There was a great +jealousy in his mind concerning that young Musgrave of whose visit to +Bayeux Mr. Cecil Burleigh had told him, and a settled purpose to hinder +Elizabeth from what he would have called an unequal match. At the same +time that he would not force her will, he would have felt fully +justified in thwarting it; but he had a hope that the romance of her +childish memories would fade at contact with present realities. Lady +Latimer had suggested this possible solution of a difficulty, and Lady +Angleby had supported her, and had agreed that it was time now to give +Mr. Cecil Burleigh a new opportunity of urging his suit, and the coy +young lady a chance of comparing him with those whom her affection and +imagination had invested with greater attractions. There was feminine +diplomacy in this, and the joyful accident that appeared to Bessie a +piece of spontaneous kindness and good-fortune was the result of a +well-laid and well-matured plan. However, as she remained in blissful +ignorance of the design, there was no shadow forecast upon her pleasure, +and she prepared for a fortnight's absence with satisfaction unalloyed. + +"You are quite sure you will not miss me, grandpapa--quite sure you can +do without me?" she affectionately pleaded. + +"Yes, yes, I can do without you. I shall miss you, and shall be glad to +see you home again, but you have deserved your holiday, and Lady Latimer +might feel hurt if I refused to let you go." + +Before leaving Woldshire, Bessie went to Norminster. The old house in +Minster Court was more delightful to her than ever. There was another +little boy in the nursery now, called Richard, after his grandfather. +Bessie had to seek Mrs. Laurence Fairfax at the Manor House, where Lady +Eden was celebrating the birthday of her eldest son. She was seated in +the garden conversing with a young Mrs. Tindal, amidst a group of +mothers besides, whose children were at play on the grass. Mr. Laurence +Fairfax was a man of philosophic benevolence, and when advances were +made to his wife (who had a sense and cleverness beyond anything that +could have been expected in anything so bewilderingly pretty) by ladies +of the rank to which he had raised her, he met them with courtesy, and +she had now two friends in Lady Eden and Mrs. Tindal, whose society she +especially enjoyed, because they all had babies and nearly of an age. +Bessie told her grandfather where and in what company she had found her +little cousins and their mother. The squire was silent, but he was not +affronted. No results, however, came of her information, and she left +Abbotsmead the next morning without any further reference to the family +in Minster Court. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +_SUNDAY MORNING AT BEECHHURST_. + + +Bessie Fairfax arrived at Fairfield late on Saturday night, and had the +warmest welcome from Lady Latimer. They were only four at dinner. Mr. +Logger and Dora Meadows made up the quartette, and as she was tired with +her journey, and the conversation both at table and in the drawing-room +was literary and political, she was thankful to be dismissed to her room +at an early hour. It was difficult to believe that she was actually +within two miles of home. She could see nothing from her window for the +night-dews, and she woke on Sunday morning to a thick Forest mist; but +by nine o'clock it had cleared, and it was a sumptuous day. She was full +of happy excitement, and proposed to set off betimes and walk to church. +Lady Latimer, in her most complacent humor, bade her do exactly what she +liked: there was Dora to accompany her if she walked, or there was room +in the carriage that would convey herself and Mr. Logger. + +The young ladies preferred to walk. Bessie had ridden that road with Mr. +Carnegie many and many a time, but had walked it seldom, for there were +short cuts through the brushwood and heather that she was wont to pursue +in her gypsy excursions with the doctor's boys. But these were not paths +for Sunday. She recollected going along that road with Lady Latimer and +her grandfather sorely against her inclination, and returning by the +same way with her grandfather and Mr. Wiley, when the rector, +admonishing her on the virtue of humility, roused her pride and ire by +his reminder of the lowly occupations to which her early patronesses had +destined her. She laughed to herself, but she blushed too, for the +recollection was not altogether agreeable. + +As they drew near to Beechhurst one familiar spot after another called +her attention. Then the church-bells began to ring for morning service, +and they were at the entrance of the town-street, with its little +bow-windowed shops shut up, and its pretty thatched cottages half buried +in flowery gardens that made sweet the air. Bessie's heart beat fast and +faster as she recognized one old acquaintance after another. Some looked +at her and looked again, and did not know her, but most of those she +remembered had a nod, a smile, or a kind word for her, and she smiled on +all. They all seemed like friends. Now Miss Wort rushed out of her gate +and rushed back, something necessary forgotten--gloves or prayer-book +probably. Then the school-children swarmed forth like bees from a hive, +loudly exhorted to peaceable behavior by jolly Miss Buff, who was too +much absorbed in her duty of marshalling them in order to walk the +twenty yards to church to see her young friend at first, but cried out +in a gust of enthusiasm when she did see her, "Oh, you dear little +Bessie! who would have thought it? I never heard you were coming. What a +surprise for them all! They will be delighted." + +"I am staying at Fairfield," said Bessie. "There had been so many +disappointments before that I would not promise again. But here I am, +and it seems almost too good to be true." + +"Here you are, and a picture of health and beauty; you don't mind my +telling you that? Nobody can say Woldshire disagrees with you." + +They walked on. They came in sight of the "King's Arms"--of the doctor's +house. "There is dear old Jack in the porch," said Bessie; and Miss +Buff, with a kind, sympathetic nod, turned off to the church gate and +left her. Jack marched down the path and Willie followed. Then Mrs. +Carnegie appeared, hustling dilatory Tom before her, and leading by the +hand Polly, a little white-frocked girl of nine. As they issued into the +road Bessie stepped more quickly forward. The boys stared at the elegant +young lady in mourning, and even her mother gazed for one moment with +grave, unrecognizing scrutiny. It was but for one moment, and then the +flooded blue eyes and tremulous lips revealed who it was. + +"Why, it is our Bessie!" cried Jack, and sprang at her with a shout, +quite forgetful of Sunday sobriety. + +"Oh, Jack! But you are taller than I am now," said she, arresting his +rough embrace and giving her hand to her mother. They kissed each other, +and, deferring all explanations, Bessie whispered, "May I come home with +you after service and spend the day?" + +"Yes, yes--father will be in then. He has had to go to Mrs. Christie: +Mr. Robb has been attending her lately, but the moment she is worse +nothing will pacify her but seeing her old doctor." + +They crossed the road to the church in a group. Mr. Phipps came up at +the moment, grotesque and sharp as ever. "Cinderella!" exclaimed he, +lifting his hat with ceremonious politeness. "But where is the prince?" +looking round and feigning surprise. + +"Oh, the prince has not come yet," said Bessie with her beautiful blush. + +Mrs. Carnegie emitted a gentle sound, calling everybody to order, and +they entered the church. Bessie halted at the Carnegie pew, but the +children filled it, and as she knew those boys were only kept quiet +during service by maternal control, she passed on to the Fairfield pew +in the chancel, where Dora Meadows was already ensconced. Lady Latimer +presently arrived alone: Mr. Logger had committed himself to an opinion +that it was a shame to waste such a glorious morning in church, and had +declined, at the last moment, to come. He preferred to criticise +preachers without hearing them. + +The congregation was much fuller than Bessie remembered it formerly. +Beechhurst had reconciled itself to its pastor, and had found him not so +very bad after all. There was no other church within easy reach, divine +worship could not, with safety, be neglected altogether, and the +aversion with which he was regarded did not prove invincible. It was the +interest of the respectable church-people to get over it, and they had +got over it, pleading in extenuation of their indulgence that, in the +first place, the rector was a fixture, and in the second that his want +of social tact was his misfortune rather than his fault, and a clergyman +might have even worse defects than that. Lady Latimer, Admiral Parkins, +Mr. Musgrave, and Miss Wort had supported him in his office from the +first, and now Mr. Phipps and Mr. Carnegie did not systematically absent +themselves from his religious ministrations. + +The programme of the service, so to speak, was also considerably +enlarged since Bessie Fairfax went away. There was a nice-looking curate +whom she recollected as one of the rector's private pupils--Mr. Duffer. +There were twelve men and boys in white raiment, and Miss Buff, +presiding at the new organ with more than her ancient courage, executed +ambitious music that caused strangers and visitors to look up at the +loft and inquire who the organist was. Players and singers were not +always agreed, but no one could say otherwise than that, for a country +church, the performance was truly remarkable; and in the _Hampton +Chronicle_, when an account was given of special services, gratifying +mention was invariably made of Miss Buff as having presided at the organ +with her usual ability. Bessie hardly knew whether to laugh or cry as +she listened. Lady Latimer wore a countenance of ineffable patience. She +had fought the ground inch by inch with the choral party in the +congregation, and inch by inch had lost it. The responses went first, +then the psalms, and this prolonged the service so seriously that twice +she walked out of the church during the pause before sermon; but being +pastorally condoled with on the infirmities inseparable from years which +prevented her sitting through the discourse, she warmly denied the +existence of any such infirmities, and the following Sunday she stayed +to the end. For the latest innovation Beechhurst was indebted to the +young curate, who had a round full voice. He would intone the prayers. +By this time my lady was tired of clerical vanities, and only remarked, +with a little disdain in her voice, that Mr. Duffer's proper place was +Whitchester Cathedral. + +When service was over Bessie whispered to her hostess the engagement she +had made for herself during the rest of the day. My lady gloomed for an +instant, and then assented, but Bessie ought to have asked her leave. +The two elder boys were waiting at the church-door as Bessie came out, +and snatched each a daintily gloved hand to conduct her home. + +"Mother has gone on first to warn father," Jack announced; and missing +other friends--the Musgraves, Mittens, and Semples, to wit--she allowed +herself to be led in triumph across the road and up the garden-walk, the +garden gay as ever with late-blooming roses and as fragrant of +mignonette. + +When she reached the porch she was all trembling. There was her mother, +rather flushed, with her bonnet-strings untied, and her father appearing +from the dining-parlor, where the table was spread for the family +dinner, just as of old. + +"This is as it should be; and how are you, my dear?" said Mr. Carnegie, +drawing her affectionately to him. + +"Is there any need to ask, Thomas? Could she have looked bonnier if she +had never left us?" said his wife fondly. + +Blushing, beaming, laughing, Bessie came in. How small the house seemed, +and how full! There was young Christie's picture of her smiling above +the mantelpiece, there was the doctor's old bureau and the old leathern +chair. Bridget and the younger branches appeared, some of them shy of +Bessie, and Totty particularly, who was the baby when she went away. +They crowded the stairs, the narrow hall. "Make room there!" cried +Jack, imperative amidst the fuss; and her mother conveyed the trembling +girl up to her own dear old triangular nest under the thatch. The books, +the watery miniatures, the Oriental bowl and dishes were all in their +places. "Oh, mother, how happy I am to see it again!" cried she. And +they had a few tears to wink away, and with them the fancied +forgetfulnesses of the absent years. + +It was a noisy dinner in comparison with the serene dulness Bessie was +used to, but not noisier than it was entitled to be with seven children +at table, ranging from four to fourteen, for Sunday was the one day of +the week when Mr. Carnegie dined with his children, and it was his good +pleasure to dine with them all. So many bright faces and white pinafores +were a sweet spectacle to Bessie, who was so merry that Totty was quite +tamed by the time the dessert of ripe fruit came; and would sit on +"Sissy's" lap, and apply juicy grapes to "Sissy's" lips--then as "Sissy" +opened them, suddenly popped the purple globes into her own little +mouth, which made everybody laugh, and was evidently a good old family +joke. + +Dinner over, Mr. Carnegie adjourned to his study, where his practice was +to make up for short and often disturbed nights by an innocent nap on +Sunday afternoon. "We will go into the drawing-room, Bessie, as we +always do. Totty says a hymn with the others now, and will soon begin to +say her catechism, God bless her!" Thus Mrs. Carnegie. + +Bessie had now a boy clinging to either arm. They put her down in a +corner of the sofa, their mother occupying the other, and Totty throned +between them. There was a little desultory talk and seeking of places, +and then the four elder children, standing round the table, read a +chapter, verse for verse. Then followed the recitation of the catechism +in that queer, mechanical gabble that Bessie recollected so well. "If +you stop to think you are sure to break down," was still the warning. +After that Jack said the collect and epistle for the day, and Willie and +Tom said the gospel, and the lesser ones said psalms and hymns and +spiritual songs; and by the time this duty was accomplished Bridget had +done dinner, and arrived in holiday gown and ribbons to resume her +charge. In a few minutes Bessie was left alone with her mother. The +boys went to consult a favorite pear-tree in the orchard, and as Jack +was seen an hour or two later perched aloft amongst its gnarled branches +with a book, it is probable that he chose that retreat to pursue +undisturbed his seafaring studies by means of Marryat's novels. + +"I like to keep up old-fashioned customs, Bessie," said her mother. "I +know the dear children have been taught their duty, and if they forget +it sometimes there is always a hope they may return. Mrs. Wiley and Lady +Latimer have asked for them to attend the Bible classes, but their +father was strongly against it; and I think, with him, that if they are +not quite so cleverly taught at home, there is a feeling in having +learnt at their mother's knees which will stay by them longer. It is +growing quite common for young ladies in Beechhurst to have classes in +the evening for servant-girls and others, but I cannot say I favor them: +the girls get together gossipping and stopping out late, and the +teachers are so set up with notions of superior piety that they are +quite spoilt. And they do break out in the ugliest hats and +clothes--faster than the gayest of the young ladies who don't pretend to +be so over-righteous. You have not fallen into that way, dear Bessie?" + +"Oh no. I do not even teach in the Sunday-school at Kirkham. It is very +small. Mr. Forbes does not encourage the attendance of children whose +parents are able to instruct them themselves." + +"I am glad to hear it. I do not approve of this system of relieving +parents of their private duties. Mr. Wiley carries it to excess, and +will not permit any poor woman to become a member of the +coal-and-clothing club who does not send her children to Sunday-school: +the doctor has refused his subscription in consequence, and divides it +amongst the recusants. For a specimen of Miss Myra Robb's evening-class +teaching we have a girl who provokes Bridget almost past her patience: +she cannot say her duty to her neighbor in the catechism, and her +practice of it is so imperfect that your father begs me, the next time I +engage a scullery-wench, to ascertain that she is not infected with the +offensive pious conceit that distinguishes poor Eliza. Our own dear +children are affectionate and good, on the whole. Jack has made up his +mind to the sea, and Willie professes that he will be a doctor, like +his father; he could not be better. They are both at Hampton School yet, +but we have them over for Sunday while the summer weather continues." + +When Bessie had heard the family news and all about the children, she +had to tell her own, and very interesting her mother found it. She had +to answer numerous questions concerning Mr. Laurence Fairfax, his wife +and boys, and then Mrs. Carnegie inquired about that fine gentleman of +whose pretensions to Miss Fairfax Lady Latimer had warned her. Bessie +blushed rather warmly, and told what facts there were to tell, and she +now learnt for the first time that her wooing was a matter of +arrangement and policy. The information was not gratifying, to judge +from the hot fire of her face and the tone of her rejoinder. "Mr. Cecil +Burleigh is a fascinating person--so I am assured--but I don't think I +was the least bit in love," she averred with energetic scorn. Her mother +smiled, and did not say so much in reply as Bessie thought she might. + +Presently they went into the orchard, and insensibly the subject was +renewed. Bessie remembered afterward saying many things that she never +meant to say. She mentioned how she had first seen Mr. Cecil Burleigh at +the Fairfield wedding devoted to a most lovely young lady whom she had +seen again at Ryde, and had known as Miss Julia Gardiner. "I thought +they were engaged," she said. "I am sure they were lovers for a long +while." + +"You were under that impression throughout?" Mrs. Carnegie suggested +interrogatively. + +"Yes. From the day I saw them together at Ryde I had no other thought. +He was grandpapa's friend, grandpapa forwarded his election for +Norminster, and as I was the young lady of the house at Abbotsmead, it +was not singular that he should be kind and attentive to me, was it? I +am quite certain that he was as little in love with me as I was with +him, though he did invite me to be his wife. I felt very much insulted +that he should suppose me such a child as not to know that he did not +care for me; it was not in that way he had courted Miss Julia Gardiner." + +"It is a much commoner thing than you imagine for a man to be unable to +marry as his heart would dictate. But he is not for that to remain +single all his life, is he?" said Mrs. Carnegie. + +"Perhaps not; I should respect him more if he did. I will remain single +all my life unless I find somebody to love me first and best," said +Bessie with the airy assurance of the romantic age. + +"Well, dear, and I trust you may, for affection is the great sweetener +of life, and it must be hard getting along without it. But here is +father." + +Mr. Carnegie, his nap over, had seen his wife and Bessie from the +study-window. He drew Bessie's hand through his arm and asked what they +were so earnest in debate upon. Not receiving an immediate answer, he +went on to remark to his wife that their little Bessie was not spoilt by +her life among her high-born friends. "For anything I can see, she is +our dear Bessie still." + +"So she is, Thomas--self-will and her own opinion and all," replied her +mother, looking fondly in her face. + +Bessie laughed and blushed. "You never expected perfection in me, nor +too much docility," she said. + +The doctor patted her hand, and told her she was good enough for human +nature's daily companionship. Then he began to give her news of their +neighbors. "It falls out fortunately that it is holiday-time. Young +Christie is here: you know him? He told us how he had met you at some +grand house in the winter, where he went to paint a picture: the lady +had too little expression to please him, and he was not satisfied with +his work. She was, fortunately, and her husband too, for he had a +hundred pounds for the picture--like coining money his father says. He +is very good to the old people, and makes them share his prosperity--a +most excellent son." Bessie listened for another name of an excellent +son. It came. "And Harry Musgrave is at Brook for a whiff of country +air. That young man works and plays very hard: he must take heed not to +overdo it." + +"Then I shall see all my friends while I am in the Forest," said Bessie, +very glad. + +"Yes, and as pleased they will be to see you. Mother, Bessie might walk +to Brook with me before tea. They will be uncommonly gratified, and she +will get over to us many another day," Mr. Carnegie proposed. + +"Yes, Thomas, if it will not overtire her." + +"Oh, nothing overtires me," said Bessie. "Let us go by Great-Ash Ford." + +Before they started the doctor had a word or two with his wife alone. He +wanted to hear what she had made out from dear Bessie herself respecting +that grand gentleman, the member of Parliament, who by Lady Latimer's +account was her suitor some time ago and still. + +"I am puzzled, Thomas, and that is the truth--girls are so deep," Mrs. +Carnegie said. + +"Too deep sometimes for their own comprehension--eh? At any rate, she is +not moping and pining. She is as fresh as a rose, and her health and +spirits are all right. I don't remember when I have felt so thankful as +at the sight of her bonny face to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +_SUNDAY EVENING AT BROOK._ + + +That still Sunday afternoon across the glowing heath to Great-Ash Ford +was most enchanting. Every step of the way was a pleasure to Bessie. And +when they came to the ford, whom should they see resting under the shade +of the trees but Harry Musgrave and young Christie? Harry's attitude was +somewhat weary. He leant on one elbow, recumbent upon the turf, and with +flat pebbles dexterously thrown made ducks and drakes upon the surface +of the shallow pool where the cattle drank. Young Christie was talking +with much earnestness--propounding some argument apparently--and neither +observed the approach of Mr. Carnegie and his companion until they were +within twenty paces. Then a sudden flush overspread Harry's face. "It +_is_ Bessie Fairfax!" said he, and sprang to his feet and advanced to +meet her. Bessie was rosy too, and her eyes dewy bright. Young Christie, +viewing her as an artist, called her to himself the sweetest and most +womanly of women, and admired her the more for her kind looks at his +friend. Harry's _ennui_ was quite routed. + +"We were walking to Brook--your mother will give us a cup of tea, +Harry?" said Mr. Carnegie. + +Harry was walking home to Brook too, with Christie for company; his +mother would be only too proud to entertain so many good friends. They +went along by the rippling water together, and entered the familiar +garden by the wicket into the wood. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave were out there +on the green slope under the beeches, awaiting their son and his friend, +and lively were their exclamations of joy when they saw who their other +visitors were. + +"Did I not tell you little Bessie was at church, Harry?" cried his +father, turning to him with an air of triumph. + +"And he would not believe it. I thought myself it must be a mistake," +said Mrs. Musgrave. + +Bessie was touched to the heart by their cordial welcome. She made a +most favorable impression. Mr. Musgrave thought her as handsome a young +lady as a man could wish to look at, and his wife said her good heart +could be seen in her face. + +Bessie felt, nevertheless, rather more formally at home than in her +childhood, except with her old comrade Harry. Between them there was not +a moment's shyness. They were as friendly, as intimate as formerly, +though with a perceptible difference of manner. Bessie had the simple +graces of happy maidenhood, and Harry had the courteous reserve of good +society to which his university honors and pleasant humor had introduced +him. He was a very acceptable companion wherever he went, because his +enjoyment of life was so thorough as to be almost infectious. He must be +a dull dog, indeed, who did not cheer up in the sunshine of Musgrave's +presence: that was his popular character, and it agreed with Bessie's +reminiscences of him; but Harry, like other young men of great hopes and +small fortunes, had his hours of shadow that Christie knew of and others +guessed at. At tea the talk fell on London amusements and bachelor-life +in chambers. + +"As for Christie, prudent old fogy that he is, what can he know of our +miseries?" said Harry with assumed ruefulness "He has a mansion in +Cheyne Walk and a balcony looking over the river, and a vigilant +housekeeper who allows no latch-key and turns off the gas at eleven. She +gives him perfect little dinners, and makes him too comfortable by half: +we poor apprentices to law lodge and fare very rudely." + +"He has the air of being well done to, which is more than could be said +for you when first you arrived at home, Harry," remarked his mother with +what struck Bessie as a long and wistful gaze. + +"Too much smell of the midnight oil is poison to country lungs--mind +what I tell you," said the doctor, emphasizing his words with a grave +nod at the young man. + +"He ought to be content with less of his theatres and his operas and +supper-parties if he will read and write so furiously. A young fellow +can't combine the lives of a man of study and a man of leisure without +stealing too many hours from his natural rest. But I talk in vain--talk +you, Mr. Carnegie," said Christie with earnestness. + +"A man must work, and work hard, now-a-days, if he means to do or be +anything," said Harry defiantly. + +"It is the pace that kills," said the doctor. "The mischief is, that you +ardent young fellows never know when to stop. And in public life, my +lad, there is many a one comes to acknowledge that he has made more +haste than good speed." + +Harry sank back in his chair with laughing resignation; it was too bad, +he said, to talk of him to his face so dismally. Bessie Fairfax was +looking at him, her eyebrows raised, and fancying she saw a change; he +was certainly not so brown as he used to be, nor so buoyant, nor so +animated. But it would have perplexed her to define what the change she +fancied was. Conscious of her observation, Harry dissembled a minute, +then pushed back his chair, and invited her to come away to the old +sitting-room, where the evening sun shone. No one offered to follow +them; they were permitted to go alone. + +The sitting-room looked a trifle more dilapidated, but was otherwise +unaltered, and was Harry's own room still, by the books, pens, ink, and +paper on the table. Being by themselves, silence ensued. Bessie sadly +wondered whether anything was really going wrong with her beloved Harry, +and he knew that she was wondering. Then she remembered what young +Christie had said at Castlemount of his being occasionally short of +money, and would have liked to ask. But when she had reflected a moment +she did not dare. Their boy-and-girl days, their days of plain, +outspoken confidence, were for ever past. That one year of absence spent +by him in London, by her at Abbotsmead, had insensibly matured the +worldly knowledge of both, and without a word spoken each recognized the +other's position, but without diminution of their ancient kindness. + +This recognition, and certain possible, even probable, results had been +anticipated before Bessie was suffered to come into the Forest. Lady +Angleby had said to Mr. Fairfax: "Entrust her to Lady Latimer for a +short while. Granting her humble friends all the virtues that humanity +adorns itself with, they must want some of the social graces. Those +people always dispense more or less with politeness in their familiar +intercourse. Now, Cecil is exquisitely polite, and Miss Fairfax has a +fine, delicate feeling. She cannot but make comparisons and draw +conclusions. Solid worth apart, the charm of manner is with us. I shall +expect decisive consequences from this visit." + +What Bessie actually discerned was that all the old tenderness that had +blessed her childhood, and that gives the true sensitive touch, was +still abiding: father, mother, Harry--dearest of all who were most dear +to her--had not lost one whit of it. And judged by the eye, where love +looked out, Harry's great frame, well knit and suppled by athletic +sports, had a dignity, and his irregular features a beauty, that pleased +her better than dainty, high-bred elegance. He had to push his way over +the obstacles of poverty and obscure birth, and she was a young lady of +family and fortune, but she looked up to him with as meek a humility as +ever she had done when they were friends and comrades together, before +her vicissitudes began and her exalted kinsfolk reclaimed her. Woldshire +had not acquainted her with his equal. All the world never would. + +Their conversation was opened at last with a surprised smile at finding +themselves where they were--in the bare sitting-room at Brook, with the +western light shining on them through the vine-trellised lattices after +four years of growth and experience. How often had Bessie made a +picture in her day-dreams of their next meeting here since she went +away! In this hour, in this instant, love was new-born in both their +hearts. They saw it, each in the other's eyes--heard it, each in the +other's voice. Tears came with Bessie's sudden smile. She trembled and +sighed and laughed, and said she did not know why she was so foolish. +Harry was foolish too as he made her some indistinct plea about being so +glad. And a red spot burned on his own cheek as he dwelt on her +loveliness. Once more they were silent, then both at once began to talk +of people and things indifferent, coming gradually round to what +concerned themselves. + +Harry Musgrave spoke of his friend Christie and his profession +relatively to his own: "Christie has distinguished himself already. +There are houses in London where the hostess has a pride in bringing +forward young talent. Christie got the _entree_ of one of the best at +the beginning of his career, and is quite a favorite. His gentleness is +better than conventional polish, but he has taken that well too. He is a +generous little fellow, and deserves the good luck that has befallen +him. His honors are budding betimes. That is the joy of an artistic +life--you work, but it is amongst flowers. Christie will be famous +before he is thirty, and he is easy in his circumstances now: he will +never be more, never rich; he is too open-handed for that. But I shall +have years and years to toil and wait," Harry concluded with a +melancholy, humorous fall in his voice, half mocking at himself and half +pathetic, and the same was his countenance. + +All the more earnestly did Bessie brighten: "You knew that, Harry, when +you chose the law. But if you work amongst bookworms and cobwebs, don't +you play in the sunshine?" + +"Now and then, Bessie, but there will be less and less of that if I +maintain my high endeavors." + +"You will, Harry, you must! You will never be satisfied else. But there +is no sentiment in the law--it is dreary, dreary." + +"No sentiment in the law? It is a laborious calling, but many honorable +men follow it; and are not the lawyers continually helping those to +right who suffer wrong?" + +"That is not the vulgar idea of them, is it? But I believe it is what +you will always strive to do, Harry." Bessie spoke with pretty +eagerness. She feared that she might have seemed to contemn Harry's +vocation, and she hastened to make amends. Harry understood her +perfectly, and had the impudence to laugh at her quite in his old boyish +way. A little confused--also in the old way--she ran on: "I have seen +the judges in their scarlet robes and huge white wigs on a hot July +Sunday attending service in Norminster Cathedral. I tried to attire you +so, but my imagination failed. I don't believe you will ever be a judge, +Harry." + +"That is a discouraging prediction, Bessie, if I am to be a lawyer. I do +a little in this way," he said, handling a famous review that lay on the +table. "May I send it to you when there is a paper of mine in it?" + +"Oh yes; I should like it so much! I should be so interested!" said +Bessie fervently. "We take the _Times_ at Abbotsmead, and _Blackwood_ +and the old _Quarterly_, but not that. I have seen it at my uncle +Laurence's house, and Lady Latimer has it. I saw it in the Fairfield +drawing-room last night: is there anything of yours here, Harry?" + +"Yes, this is mine--a rather dry nut for you. But occasionally I +contribute a light-literature article." + +"Oh, I must tell my lady. She and Mr. Logger were differing over that +very paper, and ascribing it to half a dozen great, wise people in +turn." + +Harry laughed: "Pray, then, don't confess for me. The arguments will +lose half their force if she learn what a tyro wrote it." + +"No, no, she will be delighted to know--she adores talent. Besides, Mr. +Logger told her that the cleverest articles were written by sprightly +young men fresh from college. Have you paid your respects to her yet? +She told me with a significant little _moue_ that you had condescended +to call upon her at Easter." + +"I propose to pay my respects in company with Christie to-morrow. She is +a grand old lady; and what cubs we were, Bessie, to throw her kindness +in her face before! How angry you were!" + +"You were afraid that her patronage might be a trespass on your +independence. It was a mistake in the right direction, if it was a +mistake at all. Poor Mr. Logger is called a toady because he loves to +visit at the comfortable houses of rich great widow ladies, but I am +sure they love to have him. Lady Latimer does not approve you any the +less for not being eager to accept her invitations. You know I was fond +of her--I looked up to her more than anybody. I believe I do still." + +There was a brief pause, and then Harry said, "I have heard nothing of +Abbotsmead yet, Bessie?" + +"There is not much to hear. I live there, but no longer in the character +of heiress; that prospect is changed by the opportune discovery that my +uncle Laurence had the wisdom, some five years ago, to take a wife to +please himself, instead of a second fine lady to please my grandfather. +He made a secret of it, for which there was no necessity and not much +excuse, but he did it for their happiness. They have three capital +little boys, who, of course, have taken my shoes. I am not sorry. I +don't care for Woldshire or Abbotsmead. The Forest has my heart." + +"And mine. A man may set his hopes high, so I go on aspiring to the +possession of this earthly paradise of Brook." + +Bessie was smitten with a sudden recollection of what more Harry had +aspired to that time she was admitted into his confidence respecting the +old manor-house. She colored consciously, for she knew that he also +recollected, then said with a smile, "Ah, Harry, but between such +aspirations and their achievement there stretches so often a weary long +day. You will tire with looking forward if you look so far. Are you not +tiring now?" + +"No, no. You must not take any notice of my mother's solemn prognostics. +She does not admire what she calls the smoky color I bring home from +London. Some remote ancestor of my father died there of decline, and she +has taken up a notion that I ought to throw the study of the law to the +winds, come home, and turn farmer. Of what avail, I ask her, would my +scholarship be then?" + +"You would enjoy it, Harry. In combination with a country life it would +make you the pleasantest life a man can live." + +Harry shook his head: "What do you know about it, Bessie? It is +dreadfully hard on an ambitious fellow to be forced to turn his back on +all his fine visions of usefulness and distinction for the paltry fear +that death may cut him short." + +"Oh, if you regard it in that light! I should not call it a paltry fear. +There are more ways than one to distinction--this, for instance," +dropping her hand on Harry's paper in the review. "Winged words fly far, +and influence you never know what minds. I should be proud of the +distinction of a public writer." + +"Literature by itself is not enough to depend on unless one draws a +great prize of popularity. I have not imagination enough to write a +novel. Have you forgotten the disasters of your heroes the poets, +Bessie? No--I cannot give up after a year of difficulty. I would rather +rub out than rust out, if that be all." + +"Oh, Harry, don't be provoking! Why rub out or rust out either?" +remonstrated Bessie. "Your mother would rather keep her living son, +though ever so unlucky, than bury the most promising that ever killed +himself with misdirected labor. Two young men came to Abbotsmead once to +bid grandpapa good-bye; they were only nineteen and sixteen, and were +the last survivors of a family of seven sons. They were going to New +Zealand to save their lives, and are thriving there in a patriarchal +fashion with large families and flocks and herds. You are not asked to +go to New Zealand, but you had better do that than die untimely in foggy +England, dear as it is. Is not life sweet to you?--it is very sweet to +me." + +Harry got up, and walked to an open lattice that commanded the purple +splendor of the western sky. He stood there two or three minutes quite +silent, then by a glance invited Bessie to come. "Life is so sweet," he +said, "that I dare not risk marring it by what seems like cowardice; but +I will be prudent, if only for the sake of the women who love me." There +was the old mirthful light in Harry's eyes as he said the last words +very softly. + +"Don't make fun of us," said Bessie, looking up with a faint blush. "You +know we love you; mind you keep your word. It is time I was going back +to Fairfield, the evening is closing in." + +The door opened and Mrs. Musgrave entered. "Well, children, are you +ready?" she inquired cheerfully. "We are all thinking you have had quite +time enough to tell your secrets, and the doctor has been wanting to +leave for ever so long." + +"Bessie has been administering a lecture, mother, and giving me some +serious advice; she would send me to the antipodes," said her son. +Bessie made a gentle show of denial, and they came forward from the +window. + +"Never mind him, dear, that is his teasing way: I know how much to +believe of his nonsense," said Mrs. Musgrave. "But," she added more +gravely, turning to Harry, "if Bessie agrees with your mother that there +is no sense in destroying your health by poring over dusty law in London +when there are wholesome light ways of living to be turned to in sweet +country air, Bessie is wise. I wish anybody could persuade him to tell +what is his objection to the Church. Or he might go and be a tutor in +some high family, as Lady Latimer suggested. He is well fitted for it." + +"Did Lady Latimer suggest that, mother?" Harry asked with sharp +annoyance in his voice and look. + +"She did, Harry; and don't let that vex you as if it was a coming-down. +For she said that many such tutors, when they took orders, got good +promotion, and more than one had been made a bishop." + +This was too much for the gravity of the young people. "A bishop, +Bessie! Can you array me in lawn sleeves and satin gown?" cried Harry +with a peal of laughter. Then, with a sudden recovery and a sigh, he +said, "Nay, mother, if I must play a part, it shall not be on that +stage. I'll keep my self-respect, whatever else I forfeit." + +"You will have your own way, Harry, lead where it will; your father and +me have not that to learn at this time of day. But, Bessie joy, Mr. +Carnegie's in a hurry, and it is a good step to Fairfield. We shall see +you often while you are in the Forest, I hope?" + +"Staying with Lady Latimer is not quite the same as being at home, but I +shall try to come again." + +"Do, dear--we shall be more than pleased; you were ever a favorite at +Brook," said Mrs. Musgrave tenderly. Bessie kissed Harry's mother, shook +hands with himself and his father, who also patted her on the back as a +reminder of old familiarity, and then went off with Mr. Carnegie, +light-hearted and light-footed, a picture of young content. The doctor, +after one glance at her blithe face, thought that he could tell his wife +when he got home who it was their little Bessie really loved. + +Harry Musgrave took his hat to set Christie part of the way back to +Beechhurst in the opposite direction. The young men talked as they +walked, Christie resuming the argument that the apparition of Bessie +Fairfax had interrupted in the afternoon. The argument was that which +Mrs. Musgrave had enunciated against the study of the law. Harry was not +much moved by it. If he had a new motive for prudence, he had also a new +and very strong motive for persistence. Christie suspected as much, but +the name of Miss Fairfax was not mentioned. + +"You have made your mark in that review, and literature is as fair a +profession as art if a man will only be industrious," he said. + +"I hate the notion of task-work and drudgery in literature; and what +sort of a living is to be got out of our inspirations?" objected Harry. + +"It is good to bear the yoke in our youth: I find it discipline to paint +pot-boilers," rejoined little Christie mildly. "You must write +pot-boilers for the magazines. The best authors do it." + +"It is not easy to get a footing in a magazine where one would care to +appear. There are not many authors whose sole dependence is a +goose-quill. Call over the well-known men; they are all something else +before they are authors. Your pot-boilers are sure of a market; pictures +have become articles of furniture, indispensable to people of taste, and +everybody has a taste now-a-days. But rejected papers are good for +nothing but to light one's fire, if one can keep a fire. Look at +Stamford! Stamford has done excellent work for thirty years; he has been +neither idle nor thriftless, and he lives from hand to mouth still. He +is one of the writers for bread, who must take the price he can get, +and not refuse it, lest he get nothing. And that would be my case--is my +case--for, as you know, my pen provides two-thirds of my maintenance. I +cannot tax my father further. If I had not missed that fellowship! The +love of money may be a root of evil, but the want of it is an evil grown +up and bearing fruit that sets the teeth on edge." + +"My dear Musgrave, that is the voice of despair, and for such a +universal _crux_!" + +"I don't despair, but I am tried, partly by my hard lines and partly by +the anxieties at home that infect me. To think that with this frame," +striking out his muscular right arm, "even Carnegie warns me as if I +were a sick girl! The sins of the fathers are the modern Nessus' shirt +to their children. I shall do my utmost to hold on until I get my call +to the bar and a platform to start from. If I cannot hold on so long, +I'll call it, as my mother does, defeat by visitation of God, and step +down to be a poor fellow amongst other poor fellows. But that is not the +life I planned for." + +"We all know that, Musgrave, and there is no quarter where you won't +meet the truest sympathy. Many a man has to come down from the tall +pedestal where his hopes have set him, and, unless it be by his own +grievous fault, he is tolerably sure to find his level of content on the +common ground. That's where I mean to walk with my Janey; and some day +you'll hold up a finger, and just as sweet a companion will come and +walk hand in hand with you." + +Harry smiled despite his trouble; he knew what Christie meant, and he +believed him. He parted with his friend there, and turned back in the +soft gloom towards home, thinking of her all the way--dear little +Bessie, so frank and warm-hearted. He remembered how, when he was a boy +and lost a certain prize at school that he had reckoned on too +confidently, she had whispered away his shame-faced disappointment with +a rosy cheek against his jacket, and "Never mind, Harry, I love you." +And she would do it again, he knew she would. The feeling was in +her--she could not hide it. + +But at this point of his meditations his worldly wisdom came in to dash +their beauty. Unless he could bridge with bow of highest promise the +gulf that vicissitude had opened between them since those days of +primitive affection, he need not set his mind upon her. He ought not, so +he told himself, though his mind was set upon her already beyond the +chance of turning. He did not know yet that he had a rival; when that +knowledge came all other obstacles, sentimental, chivalrous, would be +swallowed up in its portentous shadow. For to-night he held his reverie +in peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +_AT FAIRFIELD._ + + +"We thought you were lost," was Lady Latimer's greeting to Bessie +Fairfax when she entered the Fairfield drawing-room, tired with her long +walk, but still in buoyant spirits. + +"Oh no!" said Bessie. "I have come from Brook. When I had seen them all +at home my father carried me off there to tea." + +"I observed that you were not at the evening service. The Musgraves and +those people drink tea at five o'clock: you must be ready for your +supper now. Mr. Logger, will you be so good as to ring the bell?" + +Bessie was profoundly absorbed in her own happiness, but Lady Latimer's +manner, and still more the tone of her voice, struck her with an +uncomfortable chill. "Thank you, but I do not wish for anything to eat," +she said, a little surprised. + +The bell had rung, however, and the footman appeared. "Miss Fairfax will +take supper--she dined in the middle of the day," said Lady Latimer, but +nothing could be less hospitable than the inflection of her speech as +she gave the order. + +"Indeed, indeed, I am not hungry; we had chicken and tongue to tea," +cried Bessie, rather shamefaced now. + +"And matrimony-cake and hot buttered toast--" + +"No, we had no matrimony-cake," said Bessie, who understood now that my +lady was cross; and no one could be more taunting and unpleasant than my +lady when she was cross. + +The footman had taken Miss Fairfax's remonstrative statement for a +negative, and had returned to his own supper when the drawing-room bell +rang again: "Why do you not announce Miss Fairfax's supper? Is it not +ready yet?" + +"In a minute, my lady," said the man, and vanished. In due time he +reappeared to say that supper was served, and Lady Latimer looked at her +young guest and repeated the notice. Bessie laughed, and, rising with a +fine color and rather proud air, left the room and went straight to bed. +When neither she nor Mrs. Betts came in to prayers half an hour later, +my lady became silent and reflective: she was not accustomed to revolt +amongst her young ladies, and Miss Fairfax's quiet defiance took her at +a disadvantage. She had anticipated a much more timid habit in this +young lady, whom she had undertaken to manage and mould to the will of +her grandfather. In the morning her humor was gracious again, and +Bessie, who had received counsel from Dora Meadows, deeply experienced +in Aunt Olympia's peculiarities, made no sign of remembering that there +had been any fray. But she was warned of the imperious temper of her +hostess, who would have no independence of action amongst her youthful +charges, but expected them to consult her and defer to her at every +step. "Why, then," thought Bessie, "did she bid me, in the first +instance, do exactly what I liked?" To this there was no answer: is +there ever an answer to the _why_ of an exacting woman's caprice? + +After breakfast the young ladies took Mr. Logger out for a salubrious +airing across the heath. In their absence Harry Musgrave and young +Christie called at Fairfield, and, no longer in terror of Lady Latimer's +patronage, talked to her of themselves, which she liked. She was +exceedingly kind, and asked them both to dine the next day. "You will +meet Mr. Cecil Burleigh: you may have heard his name, Mr. Musgrave? The +Conservative member for Norminster," she said rather imposingly. + +"Oh yes, he is one of the coming men," said Harry, much interested, and +he accepted the invitation. Mr. Christie declined it. His mother was +very ill, he said, but he would send his portfolio for her ladyship to +look over, if she would allow him. Her ladyship would be delighted. + +When the young ladies brought Mr. Logger back to luncheon the visitors +were gone, but Lady Latimer mentioned that they had been there, and she +gave Mr. Logger a short account of them: "Mr. Harry Musgrave is reading +for the bar. He took honors at Oxford, and if his constitution will +stand the wear and tear of a laborious, intellectual life, great things +may be expected from him. But unhappily he is not very strong." Mr. +Logger shook his head, and said it was the London gas. "Mr. Christie is +a son of our village wheelwright, himself a most ingenious person. Mr. +Danberry found him out, and spoke those few words of judicious praise +that revealed the young man to himself as an artist. Mr. Danberry was +staying with me at the time, and we had him here with his sketches, +which were so promising that we encouraged him to make art his study. +And he has done so with much credit." + +"Christie? a landscape-painter? does a portrait now and then? I have met +him at Danberry's," said Mr. Logger, whose vocation it was to have met +everybody who was likely to be mentioned in society. "Curious now: +Archdeacon Topham was the son of a country carpenter: headstrong +fellow--took a mountain-walk without a guide, and fell down a +_crevasse_, or something." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh arrived the next day to luncheon. In the afternoon +the whole party walked in the Forest. Lady Latimer kept Dora at her +elbow, and required Mr. Logger's opinion and advice on a new emigration +scheme that she was endeavoring to develop. Bessie Fairfax was thus left +to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and they were not at a loss for conversation. +Bessie was feeling quite gay and happy, and talked and listened as +cheerfully as possible. The gentleman was rather jaded with the work of +the session, and showed it in his handsome visage. He assumed that Miss +Fairfax was so far in his confidence as to be interested in the high +themes that interested himself, and of these he discoursed until his +companion inadvertently betrayed that she was capable of abstracting her +mind and thinking of something else while seeming to give him all her +polite attention. He was then silent--not unthankfully. + +Their walk took them first round by the wheelwright's and afterward by +the village. Lady Latimer loved to entertain and occupy her guests, even +those who would have preferred wider margins of leisure. On the green in +front of the wheelwright's they found little Christie seated under a +white umbrella, making a sketch of his father's house and the shed. A +group of sturdy children had put themselves just in the way by a +disabled wagon to give it life. + +"I am doing it to please my mother," said the artist in reply to Lady +Latimer's inquiry if he was going to make a finished picture of it. He +went on with his dainty touches without moving. "I must not lose the +five-o'clock effect of the sun through that tall fir," he explained +apologetically. + +"No; continue, pray, continue," said my lady, and summoned her party to +proceed. + +At the entrance of the village, to Bessie's great joy, they fell in with +Mr. Carnegie returning from a long round on horseback. + +"Would Bessie like a ride with the old doctor to-morrow?" he asked her +as the others strolled on. + +"Oh yes--I have brought my habit," she said enthusiastically. + +"Then Miss Hoyden shall trot along with me, and we'll call for you--not +later than ten, Bessie, and you'll not keep me waiting." + +"Oh no; I will be ready. Lady Latimer has not planned anything for the +morning, so I may be excused." + +Whether Lady Latimer had planned anything for the morning or not, she +manifested a lofty displeasure that Miss Fairfax had planned this ride +for herself. Dora whispered to her not to mind, it would soon blow over. +So Bessie went up stairs to dress somewhat relieved, but still with a +doubtful mind and a sense of indignant astonishment at my lady's +behavior to her. She thought it very odd, and speculated whether there +might be any reason for it beyond the failure in deference to herself. + +An idea struck her when she saw Mrs. Betts unfolding her most sumptuous +dress--a rich white silk embroidered in black and silver for +mourning--evidently in the intention of adorning her to the highest. +"Oh, not that dress," she said. "I will wear my India muslin with black +ribbons." + +"It is quite a set party, miss," remonstrated Mrs. Betts. + +"No matter," said Bessie decisively. No, she would not triumph over dear +Harry with grand clothes. + +When her young lady had spoken, Mrs. Betts knew that it was spending her +breath in vain to contradict; and Bessie went down to the drawing-room +with an air of inexpensive simplicity very becoming to her beauty, and +that need not alarm a poor gentleman who might have visions of her as a +wife. Lady Latimer instantly accused and convicted her of that intention +in it--in her private thoughts, that is. My lady herself was magnificent +in purple satin, and little Dora Meadows had put on her finest raiment; +but Bessie, with her wealth of fair hair and incomparable beauty of +coloring, still glowed the most; and she glowed with more than her +natural rose when Lady Latimer, after looking her up and down from head +to foot with extreme deliberation, turned away with a scorny face. +Bessie's eyes sparkled, and Mr. Logger, who saw all and saw nothing, +perceived that she could look scorny too. + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh was pacing to and fro the conservatory into which a +glass door opened from the drawing-room. His hands were clasped behind +him, and his head was bent down as if he were in a profoundly cogitative +mood. "I am afraid Burleigh is rather out of sorts--the effect of +overstrain, the curse of our time," said Mr. Logger sententiously. Mr. +Logger himself was admirably preserved. + +"He is looking remarkably well, on the contrary," said Lady Latimer. My +lady was certainly not in her most beneficent humor. Dora darted an +alarmed glance at Bessie, and at that moment Mr. Musgrave was announced. + +Bessie blushed him a sweet welcome, and said, perhaps unnecessarily, "I +am so glad you have come!" and Harry expressed his thanks with kind eyes +and a very cordial shake of the hand: they appeared quite confidentially +intimate, those young people. Lady Latimer stood looking on like a +picture of dignity, and when Mr. Cecil Burleigh entered from the +conservatory she introduced the two young men in her stateliest manner. +Bessie was beginning now to understand what all this meant. Throughout +the dinner my lady never relaxed. She was formally courteous, +elaborately gracious, but _grande dame_ from her shoe-tie to the +top-knot of her cap. + +Those who knew her well were ill at ease, but Harry Musgrave dined in +undisturbed, complacent comfort. He had known dons at Oxford, and placed +Lady Latimer in the donnish caste: that was all. He thought she had been +a more charming woman. The conversation was interrogatory, and chiefly +addressed to himself, and he had plenty to say and a pleasant way of +saying it, but except for Bessie's dear bright face opposite the +atmosphere would have been quite freezing. When the ladies withdrew, Mr. +Logger almost immediately followed, and then Mr. Cecil Burleigh was +himself again. He unbent to this athletic young man, whose Oxford +double-first was the hall-mark of his quality, and whom Miss Fairfax was +so frankly glad to see. Harry Musgrave had heard the reputation of the +other, and met his condescension with the easy deference of a young man +who knows the world. They were mutually interesting, and stayed in the +dining-room until Lady Latimer sent to say that tea was in. + +When they entered the drawing-room my lady and Mr. Logger were deep in a +report of the emigration commission. Bessie and Dora were sitting on the +steps into the rose-garden watching the moon rise over the distant sea. +Dora was bidden to come in out of the dew and give the gentlemen a cup +of tea; Bessie was not bidden to do anything: she was apparently in +disgrace. Dora obeyed like a little scared rabbit. Harry Musgrave stood +a minute pensive, then took possession of a fine, quilted red silk +_duvet_ from the couch, and folded it round Bessie's shoulders with the +remark that her dress was but thin. Mr. Cecil Burleigh witnessed with +secret trepidation the simple, affectionate thoughtfulness with which +the act was done and the beautiful look of kindness with which it was +acknowledged. Bessie's innocent face was a mirror for her heart. If this +fine gentleman was any longer deceived on his own account, he was one of +the blind who are blind because they will not see. + +Lady Latimer was observant too, and she now left her blue-book, and +said, "Mr. Musgrave, will you not have tea?" + +Harry came forward and accepted a cup, and was kept standing in the +middle of the room for the next half hour, extemporizing views and +opinions upon subjects on which he had none, until a glance of my lady's +eye towards the clock on the chimney-piece gave him notice of the hours +observed in great society. A few minutes after he took his leave, +without having found the opportunity of speaking to Bessie again, except +to say "Good-night." + +As Harry Musgrave left the room my lady rang the bell, and when the +servant answered it she turned to Bessie and said in her iced voice, +"Perhaps you would like to send for a shawl?" + +"Thank you, but I will not go out again," said Bessie mildly, and the +servant vanished. + +Mr. Logger, who had really much amiability, here offered a remark: "A +very fine young man, that Mr. Musgrave--great power of countenance. +Wherever I meet with it now I say, Let us cherish talent, for it will +soon be the only real distinction where everybody is rich." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh made an inarticulate murmur, which might signify +acquiescence or the reverse. + +Lady Latimer said, "Young ladies, I think it is time you were going up +stairs." And with dutiful alacrity the young ladies went. + +"Never mind," whispered Dora to Bessie with a kiss as they separated. +"If you take any notice of Aunt Olympia's tempers, you will not have a +moment's peace: I never do. All will be right again in the morning." +Bessie had her doubts of that, but she tried to feel hopeful; and she +was not without her consolation, whether or no. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +_ANOTHER RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR._ + + +Half-past nine was the breakfast-hour at Fairfield, and Bessie Fairfax +said she would prepare for her ride before going down. + +"Will you breakfast in your riding-habit, miss?--her ladyship is very +particular," said Mrs. Betts in a tone implying that her ladyship might +consider it a liberty. Bessie said Yes, she must not keep Mr. Carnegie +waiting when he came. + +So she went down stairs in her habit and a crimson neck-tie, with her +hair compactly rolled up, and looking exceedingly well. Lady Latimer +justified Dora's predictions: she kissed Bessie as if she had never been +affronted. Bessie accepted the caress, and was thankful. It was no part +of her pleasure to vex my lady. + +They had not left the breakfast-table when the servant announced that +Mr. Carnegie had arrived. "We will go out and see you mount," said Lady +Latimer, and left her unfinished meal, Mr. Cecil Burleigh attending her. +Dora would have gone too, but as Mr. Logger made no sign of moving, my +lady intimated that she must remain. Lady Latimer had inquiries to make +of the doctor respecting several sick poor persons, her pensioners, and +while they are talking Mr. Cecil Burleigh gave Bessie a hand up into her +saddle, and remarked that Miss Hoyden was in high condition and very +fresh. + +"Oh, I can hold her. She has a good mouth and perfect temper; she never +ran away from me but once," said Bessie, caressing her old favorite with +voice and hand. + +"And what happened on that occasion?" said Mr. Cecil Burleigh. + +"She had her fling, and nothing happened. It was along the road that +skirts the Brook pastures, and at the sharp turn Mr. Harry Musgrave saw +her coming--head down, the bit in her teeth--and threw open the gate, +and we dashed into the clover. As I did not lose my nerve or tumble off, +I am never afraid now. I love a good gallop." + +Mr. Cecil Burleigh asked no more questions. If it be true that out of +the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, Brook and Mr. Harry +Musgrave must have been much in Miss Fairfax's thoughts; this was now +the third time that she had found occasion to mention them since coming +to breakfast. + +Lady Latimer turned in-doors again with a preoccupied air. Bessie had +looked behind her as she rode down the avenue, as if she were bidding +them good-bye. Mr. Cecil Burleigh was silent too. He had come to +Fairfield with certain lively hopes and expectations, for which my lady +was mainly responsible, and already he was experiencing sensations of +blankness worse to bear than disappointment. Others might be perplexed +as to Miss Fairfax's sentiments, but to him they were clear as the +day--friendly, but nothing more. She was now where she would be, was +exuberantly contented, and could not hide how slight a tie upon her had +been established by a year amongst her kindred in Woldshire. + +"This is like old times, Bessie," said the doctor as the Fairfield gate +closed behind them. + +Bessie laughed and tossed her head like a creature escaped. "Yes, I am +so happy!" she answered. + +The ride was just one of the doctor's regular rounds. He had to call at +Brook, where a servant was ill, and they went by the high-road to the +manor. Harry Musgrave was not at home. He had gone out for a day's +ranging, and was pensively pondering his way through the bosky recesses +of the Forest, under the unbroken silence of the tall pines, to the +seashore and the old haunts of the almost extinct race of smugglers. The +first person they met after leaving the manor was little Christie with a +pale radiant face, having just come on a perfect theme for a picture--a +still woodland pool reflecting high broken banks and flags and rushes, +with slender birchen trees hanging over, and a cluster of low +reed-thatched huts, very uncomfortable to live in, but gloriously mossed +and weather-stained to paint. + +"Don't linger here too late--it is an unwholesome spot," said Mr. +Carnegie, warning him as he rode on. Little Christie set up his white +umbrella in the sun, and kings might have envied him. + +"My mother is better, but call and see her," he cried after the doctor; +this amendment was one cause of the artist's blitheness. + +"Of course, she is better--she has had nothing for a week to make her +bad," said Mr. Carnegie; but when he reached the wheelwright's and saw +Mrs. Christie, with a handkerchief tied over her cap, gently pacing the +narrow garden-walks, he assumed an air of excessive astonishment. + +"Yes, Mr. Carnegie, sir, I'm up and out," she announced in a tone of no +thanks to anybody. "I felt a sing'lar wish to taste the air, and my boy +says, 'Go out, mother; it will do you more good than anything.' I could +enjoy a ride in a chaise, but folks that make debts can afford to behave +very handsome to themselves in a many things that them that pays ready +money has to be mean enough to do without. Jones's wife has her rides, +but if her husband would pay for the repair of the spring-cart that was +mended fourteen months ago come Martinmas, there'd be more sense in +that." + +"Don't matter, my good soul! Walking is better than riding any fine day, +if you have got the strength," said the doctor briskly. + +"Yes, sir; there's that consolation for them that is not rich and loves +to pay their way. I hope to walk to church next Sunday, please the Lord. +And if a word could be given to Mr. Wiley not to play so on the +feelings, it would be a mercy. He do make such awful faces, and allude +to sudden death and accidents and the like, as is enough to give an +ailing person a turn. I said to Mrs. Bunny, 'Mary,' I said, 'don't you +go to hear him; leastways, sit by the door if you must, and don't stop +for the sermon: it might make that impression it would do the babe a +mischief.'" + +"Go to chapel; it is nearer. And take Mrs. Bunny with you," said Mr. +Carnegie. + +"No, sir. Mrs. Wiley has been very kind in calling and taking notice +since I have been laid up, and one good turn deserves another. I shall +attend church in future, though the doctrine's so shocking that if folks +pondered it the lunatic asylums wouldn't hold 'em all. I'll never +believe as the Lord meant us to be threatened with judgment to come, and +hell, and all that, till one's afraid to lie down in one's bed. He'd not +have let there be an end of us if we didn't get so mortal tired o' +living." + +"Living is a weariness that men and women bear with unanimous patience, +Mrs. Christie--aches and pains included." + +"So it may be, sir. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. A week ago I +could not have thought the pleasure it would be to-day to see the sun, +and the pretty things in flower, and my boy going out with his +color-box. And not as much physic have you given me, Mr. Carnegie, as +would lie on a penny-piece." + +Bessie Fairfax laughed as they rode on, and said, "Nobody changes. I +should be tempted to give Mrs. Christie something horribly nasty for her +ingratitude." + +"Nobody changes," echoed the doctor. "She will be at her drugs again +before the month is out." + +A little beyond the wheelwright's, Mr. Carnegie pulled up at a spot by +the wayside where an itinerant tinker sat in the shade with his brazier +hot, doing a good stroke of work on the village kettles and pots: "Eh, +Gampling, here you are again! They bade me at home look out for you and +tell you to call. There is a whole regiment of cripples to mend." + +"Then let 'em march to Hampton, sir--they'll get back some time this +side o' Christmas," said the tinker, with a surly cunning glance out of +the corner of his eye. "Your women's so mighty hard to please that I'm +not meaning to call again; I prefers to work where I gives +satisfaction." + +"I did hear something of a pan new bottomed to mend a hole in its side; +but what is that amongst friends? Mistakes will occur in the +best-regulated businesses." + +"You're likely to know, sir--there's a sight o' folks dropping off quite +unaccountable else. I'm not dependent on one nor another, and what I +says I stands to: I'll never call at Dr. Carnegie's back door again +while that Irish lass is about his kitchen; she's give me the rough side +of her tongue once, but she won't do it no more." + +"Then good-day to you, Gampling; I can't part with the Irish lass at +your price." + +A sturdy laborer came along the road eating a hunch of bread and cheese. +Mr. Carnegie asked him how his wife did. The answer was crabbed: "She's +never naught to boast on, and she's allus worse after a spiritchus +visit: parson's paying her one now. Can you tell me, Mr. Carnegie, sir, +why parson chooses folk's dinner-time to drop in an' badger 'em about +church? Old parson never did." He did not stay to have his puzzle +elucidated, but trudged heavily on. + +"Mr. Wiley does not seem very popular yet," observed Bessie. + +"He is more so than he was. But his wife, who helps the poor liberally +in the winter, is of twice the use in the parish that he is, with his +inopportune 'spiritchus visits.' I have remonstrated with him about +going to the cottages between twelve and one, when dinner is being eaten +and the men want a bit of rest, but he professes that it is the only +time to catch them in-doors. I suppose Molton won't bear it, and takes +up his food and walks out. Yet Beechhurst might have a worse pastor than +poor Wiley. He is a man I pity--a martyr to dyspepsia and a gloomy +imagination. But I will not deny that he often raises my choler still." +The doctor was on the verge of having it raised now. + +At the last bend of the road to the village, and nearly opposite the +forge, was a small cabin of one room, the abode of the respectable Mrs. +Wallop, the mainstay of Beechhurst as a nurse in last illnesses and +dangerous cases--a woman of heart and courage, though perhaps of too +imaginative a style of conversation. Although it was but a work-day, she +was sitting at her own door in her Sunday black gown and bonnet, and, +like Niobe, all tears. Mr. Carnegie pulled up in sheer amazement at the +deplorable spectacle his valued right hand was making of herself in +public, and, as if she had been on the watch for him, up she rose from +her stool and came forward to answer his unspoken questions. + +"Ay, Mr. Carnegie, sir, you may well ask what I am doing at home all day +idle," said she. "It is a Judas I feel, and if I don't get it off my +mind it will be too much for me: I can't bear it, sir." + +"Then out with it, Mrs. Wallop," said the imperative doctor. "It is +nothing very private, or you would not advertise it by crying at the +corner of the street." + +"No, sir, but it shames me to tell it, that it do, though you're one o' +them that well knows what flesh and blood comes to when the temptation's +strong. I've took money, Mr. Carnegie, wage for a month, to go nowheres +else but to the rectory; and nobody ill there, only a' might happen. It +never occurred to me the cruel sin I'd done till Robb came along, +begging and praying of me to go to them forlorn poor creturs at +Marsh-End. For it is the fever, sir. Mr. Wiley got wind of it, and sent +Robb over to make sure." + +"Lost in misery they are. Fling away your dirty hire, and be off to +Marsh-End, Mrs. Wallop. Crying and denying your conscience will +disagree very badly with your inside," said Mr. Carnegie, angry contempt +in his voice. + +"I will sir, and be glad to. It ain't Christian--no, nor human natur--to +sit with hands folded when there is sick folk wanting help. Poor Judas!" +she went on in soliloquy as the doctor trotted off. "I reckon his +feelings changed above a bit between looking at the thirty pieces of +silver and wishing he had 'un, and finding how heavy they was on his +soul afore he was drove to get rid of 'em, and went out and hanged +himself. I won't do that, anyhow, while I've a good charicter to fall +back on, but I'll return Mrs. Wiley her money, and take the consequences +if she sets it about as I'm not a woman of my word." + +A few minutes more brought Mr. Carnegie home with Bessie Fairfax to his +own door. Hovering about on the watch for the doctor's return was Mr. +Wiley. Though there was no great love lost between them, the rector was +imbued with the local faith in the doctor's skill, and wanted to consult +him. + +"You have heard that the fever has broken out again?" he said with +visible trepidation. + +"I have no case of fever myself. I hear that Robb has." + +"Yes--two in one house. Now, what precautions do you recommend against +infection?" + +"For nervous persons the best precaution is to keep out of the way of +infection." + +"You would recommend me to keep away from Marsh-End, then? Moxon is +nearer, though it is in my parish." + +"I never recommend a man to dodge his duty. Mrs. Wallop will be of most +use at present; she is just starting." + +"Mrs. Wallop? My wife has engaged her and paid her for a month in the +event of any trouble coming amongst ourselves. You must surely be +mistaken, Mr. Carnegie?" + +"Mrs. Wiley was mistaken. She did not know her woman. Good-morning to +you, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +_FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES._ + + +Mrs. Carnegie from the dining-room window witnessed the colloquy between +the rector and her husband, and came out into the porch to receive her +dear Bessie. "They will not expect you at Fairfield until they see you; +so come in, love," said she, and Bessie gladly obeyed. + +The doctor's house was all the quieter for the absence of the elder boys +at Hampton. The other children were playing in the orchard after school. +"It is a great convenience to have a school opened here where boys and +girls are both taught from four up to ten, and very nicely taught," said +the mother. "It gives me a little leisure. Even Totty goes, and likes +it, bless her!" + +Mr. Carnegie was not many minutes in-doors. He ate a crust standing, and +then went away again to answer a summons that had come since he went out +in the morning. + +"It will be a good opportunity, Bessie, to call on Miss Buff and Miss +Wort, and to say a word in passing to the Semples and Mittens; they are +always polite in asking after you," Mrs. Carnegie mentioned at the +children's dinner. But Miss Buff, having heard that Miss Fairfax was at +the doctor's house, forestalled these good intentions by arriving there +herself. She was ushered into the drawing-room, and Bessie joined her, +and was embraced and rejoiced over exuberantly. + +"You dear little thing! I do like you in your habit," cried she. "Turn +round--it fits beautifully. So you have been having a ride with the +doctor, and seeing everybody, I suppose? Mrs. Wiley wonders when you +will call." + +"Oh yes, Bessie dear, you must not neglect Mrs. Wiley," said Mrs. +Carnegie. + +"It will do some day with Lady Latimer--she has constant business at the +rectory," Bessie said. She did not wish to waste this precious afternoon +in duty-visits to people she did not care for. + +"Well, I was to have written to you, and I never did," recommenced Miss +Buff. + +"Out of sight, out of mind: don't apologize!" + +But Miss Buff would explain and extenuate her broken promise: "The fact +is, my hands are almost too full: what with the school and the +committee, the organ and church, the missionary club and my district, I +am a regular lay-curate. Then there is Mr. Duffer's early service, eight +o'clock; and Fridays and Wednesdays and all the saints' days, and +decorating for the great festivals--perhaps a little too much of that, +but on Whitsunday the chancel was lovely, was it not, Mrs. Carnegie?" +Mrs. Carnegie nodded her acquiescence. "Then I have a green-house at +last, and that gives me something to do. I should like to show you my +green-house, Bessie. But you must be used to such magnificent things now +that perhaps you will not care for my small place." + +"I shall care as much as ever. I prefer small things to great yet." + +"And my fowl-house--you shall see that--and my pigeons. You used to be +so fond of live creatures, Bessie." + +"By the by, Miss Buff, have you discovered yet the depredator of your +poultry-yard?" Mrs. Carnegie asked. + +"No, but I have put a stop to his depredations. I strongly suspect that +pet subject of Miss Wort's--that hulking, idle son of Widow Burt. I am +sorry for _her_, but _he_ is no good. You know I wrote to the inspector +of police at Hampton. Did I not tell you? No! Well, but I did, and said +if he would send an extra man over to stay the night in the house and +watch who stole my pigeons, he should have coffee and hot buttered +toast; and I dare say Eppie would not have objected to sit up with him +till twelve. However, the inspector didn't--he did not consider it +necessary--but the ordinary police probably watched, for I have not been +robbed since. And that is a comfort; I hate to sleep with one eye open. +You are laughing, Bessie; you would not laugh if you had lost seven +pigeons ready to go into a pie, and all in the space of ten days. I am +sure that horrid Burt stole 'em." + +Bessie still laughed: "Is your affection so material? Do you love your +pigeons so dearly that you eat them up?" said she. + +"What else should I keep them for? I should be overrun with pigeons but +for putting them in pies; they make the garden very untidy as it is. I +have given up keeping ducks, but I have a tame gull for the slugs. Who +is this at the gate? Oh! Miss Wort with her inexhaustible physic-bottle. +Everybody seems to have heard that you are here, Bessie." + +Miss Wort came in breathless, and paused, and greeted Bessie in a way +that showed her wits were otherwise engaged. "It is the income-tax," she +explained parenthetically, with an appealing look round at the company. +"I have been so put out this morning; I never had my word doubted +before. Jimpson is the collector this year--" + +"Jimpson!" broke out Miss Buff impetuously. "I should like to know who +they will appoint next to pry into our private affairs? As long as old +Dobbs collected all the rates and taxes they were just tolerable, but +since they have begun to appoint new men every year my patience is +exhausted. Talk of giving us votes at elections: I would rather vote at +twenty elections than have Tom, Dick, and Harry licensed to inquire into +my money-matters. Since Dobbs was removed we have had for assessors of +income-tax both the butchers, the baker, the brewer, the miller, the +little tailor, the milk-man; and now Jimpson at the toy-shop, of all +good people! There will soon be nobody left but the sweep." + +"The sweep is a very civil man, but Jimpson is impertinent. I told him +the sum was not correct, and he answered me: 'The government of the +country must have money to carry on; I have nothing to do with the sum +except to collect it. If you don't like it, ma'am, you've got to appeal +and go before the commissioners.' He may puzzle me with his figures, but +he will never convince me I have the income, for I have not. And he said +if I supposed he was fond of the job I was mistaken." + +"Can Mr. Carnegie help you, Miss Wort? Men manage these things so much +more easily than we do," said Mrs. Carnegie kindly. + +"Thank you, but I paid the demand as the least trouble and to have done +with it." + +"Of course; I would pay half I am possessed of rather rather than go +before the commissioners," said Miss Buff. "Old Phipps is one of them; +and here he is. Come to see you, Bessie; you are having quite a levee. I +shall be off now." Miss Buff rose, and Miss Wort with her, but before +they went there were some rallying speeches to be exchanged between Miss +Buff and the quaint old bachelor. They were the most friendly of +antagonists, and their animosity was not skin-deep. "Have you seen Lady +Latimer since the last school committee, Mr. Phipps?" asked Miss Buff, +in mischievous allusion to their latest difference of opinion. + +"No. I always keep as far as possible out of her ladyship's way." + +"If you had her spirit of charity you would not avow it." + +"You take the name of charity in vain. 'It is the beginning, the excuse, +and the pretext for a thousand usurpations.' Poverty has a new terror +now-a-days in the officiousness of women with nothing to do but play at +charity." + +Miss Wort shook her head and shut her eyes, as if to stave off the shock +of this profanity. Miss Buff only laughed the more merrily, and declared +that Mr. Phipps himself had as much to answer for as anybody in +Beechhurst, if charity was a sin. + +"I can charge myself with very few acts of charity," said he grimly. "I +am not out of bonds to bare justice." + +Mr. Phipps was in his sarcastic vein, and shot many a look askance at +Cinderella in the sofa corner, with her plumed velvet hat lying on a +chair beside her. She had been transformed into a most beautiful +princess, there was no denying that. He had heard a confidential whisper +respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and had seen that gentleman--a very +handsome personage to play the part of prince in the story. Mr. Phipps +had curiosity, discernment, and a great shrewdness. Bessie had a happy +face, and was enjoying her day in her old home; but she would never be +Cinderella in the nursery any more--never the little sunburnt gypsy who +delighted to wander in the Forest with the boys, and was nowhere so well +pleased as when she might run wild. He told her so; he wanted to prove +her temper since her exaltation. + +"I shall never be only twelve years old again, and that's true," said +Bessie, with a sportive defiance exceedingly like her former self. "But +I may travel--who knows how far and wide?--and come home browner than +any berry. Grandpapa was a traveller once; so was my uncle Laurence in +pursuit of antiquities; and my poor uncle Frederick--you know he was +lost in the Baltic? The gypsy wildness is in the blood, but I shall +always come back to the Forest to rest." + +"She will keep up that delusion in her own mind to the last," said Mr. +Phipps. Then after an instant's pause, as if purposely to mark the +sequence of his thoughts, he asked, "Is that gentleman who is staying at +Fairfield with you now, Mr. Cecil Burleigh, a Woldshire man or South +country?" + +"Woldshire," said Bessie curtly; and the color mounted to her face at +the boldness of her old friend's insinuation. + +Mr. Phipps admired her anger, and went on with great coolness: "He has +some reputation--member for Norminster, I think you said? The Fairfaxes +used to be great in that part of the county fifty years ago. And I +suppose, Miss Fairfax, you can talk French now and play on the piano?" + +Bessie felt that he was very impertinent, but she preserved her +good-humor, and replied laughing, "Yes, Mr. Phipps, I can do a little of +both, like other young ladies." Mr. Carnegie had now come in. + +"The old piano is sadly out of tune, but perhaps, Bessie dear, you would +give us a song before you go," suggested her mother. + +Bessie gracefully complied, but nobody thought much of her little French +canzonette. "It is but a tiny chirp, Bessie; we have better songs than +that at home--eh, mother?" said the doctor, and that was all the +compliment she got on her performance. Mr. Phipps was amused by her +disconcerted air; already she was beyond the circle where plain speaking +is the rule and false politeness the exception. She knew that her father +must be right, and registered a silent vow to sing no more unless in +private. + +Just at this crisis a carriage drove up and stopped at the gate. "It is +the Fairfield carriage come to carry you off, Bessie," said her mother. +Lady Latimer looked out and spoke to the footman, who touched his hat +and ran to the porch with his message, "Would Miss Fairfax make +haste?--her ladyship was in a hurry." + +"I must go," said Bessie, and took her hat. Mr. Phipps sighed like an +echo, and everybody laughed. "Good-bye, but you will see me very soon +again," she cried from the gate, and then she got into the carriage. + +"To Admiral Parking's," said Lady Latimer, and they drove off on a round +of visits, returning to Fairfield only in time to dress for dinner. + +Just at that hour Harry Musgrave was coming back from his ramble in the +red light of a gorgeous sunset, to be met by his mother with the news +that Bessie Fairfax had called at the manor in the course of a ride with +the doctor in the morning, and what a pity it was that he was out of the +way! for he might have had a ride with them if he had not set off quite +so early on his walk. Harry regretted too much what he had missed to +have much to say about it; it was very unlucky. Bessie at Fairfield, he +clearly discerned, was not at home for him, and Lady Latimer was not his +friend. He had not heard any secrets respecting Mr. Cecil Burleigh, but +a suspicion obscured his fancy since last night, and his mother's +tidings threw him into a mood of dejection that made him as pale as a +fond lover whom his lady has rebuffed. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +_HOW FRIENDS MAY FALL OUT._. + + +Mr. and Mrs. Bernard and Mr. Wiley were added to the dinner-party at +Fairfield that evening, and Lady Latimer gave Miss Fairfax a quiet +reminder that she might have to be on her guard, for the rector was as +deficient in tact as ever. And so he proved. He first announced that the +fever had broken out again at Littlemire and Marsh-End, after the +shortest lull he recollected, thus taking away Mr. Logger's present +appetite, and causing him to flee from the Forest the first thing in the +morning. Then he condoled with Mrs. Bernard on a mishap to her child +that other people avoided speaking of, for the consequences were likely +to be very serious, and she had not yet been made fully aware of them. +There was a peculiar, low, lugubrious note in his voice which caused it +to be audible through the room, and Bessie, who sat opposite to him, +between Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Mr. Logger, devoted all her conversation +to them to avoid that of the rector. But he had taken note of her at the +moment of his entrance, and though the opportunity of remark had not +been afforded him, he soon made it, beginning with inquiries after her +grandfather. Then he reverted to Mr. Fairfax's visit to Beechhurst four +years ago, and spoke in a congratulatory, patronizing manner that was +peculiarly annoying to Bessie: "There is a difference between now and +then--eh, Bessie? Mrs. Wiley and I have often smiled at one naive little +speech of yours--about a nest-egg that was saving up for a certain event +that young ladies look forward to. It must be considerably grown by now, +that nest-egg. You remember, I see." + +Anybody might see that Bessie remembered; not her face only, but her +neck, her very arms, burned. + +"Secrets are not to be told out of the confessional," said Mr. Bernard. +"Miss Fairfax, you blush unseen by me." + +There was a general low ripple of laughter, and everybody began to talk +at once, to cover the young lady's palpable confusion. Afterward, Lady +Latimer, who had been amused, begged to know what that mysterious +nest-egg might be. Bessie hesitated. "Tell us, _do_ tell us," urged Dora +and Mrs. Bernard; so Bessie told them. She had to mention the schemes +for sending her to the Hampton Training School and Madame Michaud's +millinery shop by way of making her story clear, and then Lady Latimer +rather regretted that curiosity had prevailed, and manifested her regret +by saying that Mr. Wiley was one of the most awkward and unsafe guests +she ever invited to her table. "I should have asked him to meet Mr. +Harry Musgrave last night, but he would have been certain to make some +remark or inquiry that would have hurt the young man's feelings or put +him out of countenance." + +"Oh no," said Bessie with a beautiful blushing light in her face, "Harry +is above that. He has made his own place, and holds it with perfect ease +and simplicity. I see no gentleman who is his better." + +"You were always his advocate," Lady Latimer said with a sudden +accession of coldness. "Oxford has done everything for him. Dora, close +that window; Margaret, don't stand in a draught. Mr. Harry Musgrave is +a very plain young man." + +"Aunt Olympia, no," remonstrated Mrs. Bernard, who had a suspicion of +Miss Fairfax's tenderness in that quarter, and for kind sympathy would +not have her ruffled. + +But Bessie was quite equal to the occasion. "His plainness is lost in +what Mr. Logger calls his power of countenance," said she. "And I'm sure +he has a fine eye, and the sweetest smile I know." + +Lady Latimer's visage was a study of lofty disapproval: "Has he but one +eye?--I thought he had two. When young ladies begin to talk of young +gentlemen's fine eyes and sweet smiles, we begin to reflect. But they +commonly keep such sentiments to themselves." + +Dora and Bessie glanced at one another, and had the audacity to laugh. +Then Mrs. Bernard laughed and shook her head. My lady colored; she felt +herself in a minority, and, though she did not positively laugh, her +lips parted and her air of severity melted away. Bessie had cast off all +fear of her with her old belief in her perfection. She loved her, but +she knew now that she would never submit to her guidance. Lady Latimer +glanced in the girl's brave, bright face, and said meaningly, "The +nest-egg will not have been saving up unnecessarily if you condescend to +such a folly as _that_." And Bessie felt that my lady had got the last +word for the present. + +She looked guilty yet indignant at this open reference to what was no +more than an unspoken vision. She had a thousand shy silent thoughts in +her heart, but it was not for any one to drag them into the light. Lady +Latimer understood that she had said too much, but she would not +retract, and in this way their contention began. They were henceforward +visibly in opposition. Mr. Harry Musgrave called the next morning at +Fairfield and asked for Miss Fairfax. He was not admitted; he was told +that she was not at home. + +"But I was at home. Perhaps he is going back to London. I should have +liked to see him," said Bessie when she heard. + +"He came at eleven o'clock: who comes at eleven o'clock? Of course +Roberts said 'Not at home,'" replied my lady. + +Bessie knew that Roberts would not have said "Not at home" unless he +had received orders to that effect. And, in fact, his orders were to say +"Not at home" to Mr. Harry Musgrave at any and every hour. Lady Latimer +had pledged herself to secure the success of Mr. Cecil Burleigh. She +felt that Bessie was strong in her frank defiance, but if my lady could +do no more for the discouraged suitor, she could at least keep his +favored rival at a distance. And this she did without a twinge of +remorse. Bessie had a beautiful temper when she was pleased, but her +whole soul rebelled against persecution, and she considered it acute +persecution to be taken out for formal drives and calls in custody of my +lady and Mr. Cecil Burleigh, when her mother was probably mending the +boys' socks, and longing for an hour or two of her company at +Beechhurst, and Harry Musgrave was looking in every afternoon at the +doctor's to see if, by good luck, she had gone over. Bessie was made +aware of this last circumstance, and she reckoned it up with a daily +accumulating sense of injury against my lady and her client. Mr. Cecil +Burleigh found out before long that he was losing rather than gaining in +her esteem. Miss Fairfax became not only stiff and cold, but perverse, +and Lady Latimer began to feel that it was foolishly done to bring her +to Fairfield. She had been put in the way of the very danger that was to +be averted. Mr. Harry Musgrave showed to no disadvantage in any company; +Miss Fairfax had not the classic taste; Lady Angleby's tactics were a +signal failure; her nephew it was who suffered diminution in the ordeal +she had prescribed for his rival; and the sooner, therefore, that Miss +Fairfax, "a most determined young lady," was sent back to Woldshire, the +better for the family plans. + +"I shall not invite Elizabeth Fairfax to prolong her visit," Lady +Latimer said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, who in his own mind was sorry she +had made it. "I am afraid that her temper is masterful." My lady was +resolved to think that Bessie was behaving very ill, not reflecting that +a young lady pursued by a lover whom she does not love is allowed to +behave worse than under ordinary circumstances. + +Bessie would have liked to be asked to stay at Fairfield longer (which +was rather poor-spirited of her), for, though she did not go so much to +her old home or to Brook as she desired and had expected, it was +something to know that they were within reach. Her sense of happiness +was not very far from perfect--the slight bitterness infused into her +joy gave it a piquancy--and Lady Latimer presently had brought to her +notice symptoms so ominous that she began to wish for the day that would +relieve her from her charge. + +One morning Mr. Cecil Burleigh was pacing the garden without his hat, +his head bent down, and his arms clasped behind him as his custom was, +when Bessie, after regarding him with pensive abstraction for several +minutes, remarked to Dora in a quaint, melancholy voice: "Mr. Cecil +Burleigh's hyacinthine locks grow thin--he is almost bald." My lady +jumped up hastily to look, and declared it nonsense--it was only the sun +shining on his head. Dora added that he was growing round-shouldered +too. + +"Why not say humpbacked at once?" exclaimed Lady Latimer angrily. Both +the girls laughed: it was very naughty. + +"But he is not humpbacked, Aunt Olympia," said the literal Dora. + +My lady walked about in a fume, moved and removed books and papers, and +tried to restrain a violent impulse of displeasure. She took up the +review that contained Harry Musgrave's paper, and said with impatience, +"Dora, how often must I beg of you to put away the books that are done +with? Surely this is done with." + +"I have not finished reading Harry's article yet: please let me take +it," said Bessie, coming forward. + +"'Harry's article'? What do you mean?" demanded Lady Latimer with +austerity: "'Mr. Harry Musgrave' would sound more becoming." + +"I forgot to tell you: the paper you and Mr. Logger were discussing the +first evening I was here was written by Mr. Harry Musgrave," said Bessie +demurely, but not without pride. + +"Oh, indeed! The crudeness Mr. Logger remarked in it is accounted for, +then," said my lady, and Bessie's triumph was abated. Also my lady +carried off the review, and she saw it no more. + +"It is only Aunt Olympia's way," whispered Dora to comfort her. "It +will go off. She is very fond of you, but you must know you are +dreadfully provoking. I wonder how you dare?" + +"And is not _she_ dreadfully provoking?" rejoined Bessie, and began to +laugh. "But I am too happy to be intimidated. She will forgive me--if +not to-day, then to-morrow, or if not to-morrow, then the day after; or +I can have patience longer. But I will _not_ be ruled by her--_never_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +_BETWEEN THEMSELVES._ + + +It was on this day, when Bessie Fairfax's happiness primed her with +courage to resist my lady's imperious will, that Harry Musgrave learnt +for a certainty he had a rival. The rector was his informant. Mr. Wiley +overtook Harry sauntering in the Forest, and asked him how he did, +adding that he regretted to hear from his mother that there was a doubt +of his being able to continue his law-studies in London, and reminding +him of his own unheeded warnings against his ambition to rise in the +world. + +"Oh, I shall pull through, I trust," replied the young man, betraying no +disquiet. "My mother is a little fanciful, as mothers often are. You +must not encourage her anxieties." + +"You look strong enough, but appearances are sometimes deceptive. Take +care of yourself--health is before everything. It was a pity you did not +win that fellowship: I don't know how you mean to live after you have +got your call to the bar. You clever young fellows who rise from the +ranks expect to carry the world before you, but it is a much harder +matter than you think. Your father cannot make you much of an +allowance?" + +Harry knew the rector's tactless way too well to be affronted now by any +remark he might make or any question he might ask. "My father has a +liberal mind," he said good-humoredly. "And a man hopes for briefs +sooner or later." + +"It is mostly later, unless he have singular ability or good +connexions. You must marry a solicitor's daughter," said the rector, +flourishing his stick. Harry said he would try to dispense with violent +expedients. They walked on a minute or two in silence, and then Mr. +Wiley said: "You have seen Miss Fairfax, of course?--she is on a visit +at Fairfield." + +"Yes. She has been at Brook," replied Harry with reticent coolness. "We +all thought her looking remarkably well." + +"Yes, beautiful--very much improved indeed. My wife was quite +astonished, but she has been living in the very best society. And have +you seen Mr. Cecil Burleigh?" + +Harry made answer that he had dined at Fairfield one evening, and had +met Mr. Cecil Burleigh there. + +"Miss Fairfax's friends must be glad she is going to marry so well--so +suitably in every point of view. It is an excellent match, and, I +understand from Lady Latimer, all but settled. She is delighted, for +they are both immense favorites with her." + +Harry Musgrave was dumb. Yet he did not believe what he heard--he could +not believe it, remembering Bessie's kind, pretty looks. Why, her very +voice had another, softer tone when she spoke to him; his name was music +from her lips. The rector went on, explaining the fame and anticipated +future of Mr. Cecil Burleigh in a vaguely confidential manner, until +they came to a spot where two ways met, and Harry abruptly said, "I was +going to Littlemire to call on Mr. Moxon, and this is my road." He held +out his hand, and was moving off when Mr. Wiley's visage put on a solemn +shade of warning: + +"It will carry you through Marsh-End. I would avoid Marsh-End just now +if I were you--a nasty, dangerous place. The fever is never long absent. +I don't go there myself at present." + +But Harry said there was a chance, then, that he might meet with his old +tutor in the hamlet, and he started away, eager to be alone and to +escape from the rector's observation, for he knew that he was betraying +himself. He went swiftly along under the sultry shade in a confused +whirl of sensations. His confidence had suddenly failed him. He had +counted on Bessie Fairfax for his comrade since he was a boy; the idea +of her was woven into all his pleasant recollections of the past and +all his expectations in the future. Since that Sunday evening in the old +sitting-room at Brook her sweet, womanly figure had been the centre of +his thoughts, his reveries. He had imagined difficulties, obstacles, but +none with her. This real difficulty, this tangible obstacle, in the +shape of Mr. Cecil Burleigh, a suitor chosen by her family and supported +by Lady Latimer, gave him pause. He could not affect to despise Mr. +Cecil Burleigh, but he vowed a vow that he would not be cheated of his +dear little Bessie unless by her own consent. Was it possible that he +was deceived in her--that he and she mistook her old childish affection +for the passion that is strong as death? No--no, it could not be. If +there was truth in her eyes, in her voice, she loved him as dearly as he +loved her, though never a word of love had been spoken between them. The +young man wrought himself up into such a state of agitation and +excitement that he never reached Marsh-End nor saw Mr. Moxon at all that +day. He turned, and bent his steps by a circuitous path to a woodland +nook where he had left his friend Christie at work a couple of hours +ago. + +"Back again so soon? Then you did not find Moxon at home," said the +artist, scarcely lifting an eye from the canvas. + +Harry flung himself on the ground beside his friend and delivered his +mind of its new burden. Christie now condescended to look at him and to +say calmly, "It is always well to know what threatens us, but there is +no need to exaggerate facts. Mr. Cecil Burleigh is a rival you may be +proud to defeat; Miss Fairfax will please herself, and I think you are a +match for him. You have the start." + +"I know Bessie is fond of me, but she is a simple, warm-hearted girl, +and is fond of all of us," said Harry with a reflective air. + +"I had no idea you were so modest. Probably she has a slight preference +for _you_." Christie went on painting, and now and then a telling touch +accentuated his sentiments. + +Harry hearkened, and grew more composed. "I wish I had her own assurance +of it," said he. + +"You had better ask her," said Christie. + +After this they were silent for a considerable space, and the picture +made progress. Then Harry began again, summing up his disadvantages: "Is +it fair to ask her? Here am I, of no account as to family or fortune, +and under a cloud as to the future, if my mother and Carnegie are +justified in their warnings--and sometimes it comes over me that they +are--why, Christie, what have I to offer her? Nothing, nothing but my +presumptuous self." + +"Let her be judge: women have to put up with a little presumption in a +lover." + +"Would it not be great presumption? Consider her relations and friends, +her rank and its concomitants. I cannot tell how much she has learnt to +value them, how necessary they have become to her. Lady Latimer, who was +good to me until the other day, is shutting her doors against me now as +too contemptible." + +"Not at all. The despotic old lady shuts her doors against you because +she is afraid of you." + +"What have I to urge except that I love her?" + +"The best of pleas. Don't fear too much. Give her leave to love you by +avowing your love--that is what a girl waits for: if you let her go back +to Woldshire without an understanding between yourselves, she will think +you care for your own pride more than for her." + +"I wish she were little Bessie at Beechhurst again, and all her finery +blown to the winds. I have not seen her for five days." + +"That must be your own fault. You don't want an ambassador? If you do, +there's the post." + +Harry was silent again. He was chiefly raising objections for the +pleasure of hearing them contradicted; of course he was not aware of +half the objections that might have been cited against him as an +aspirant to the hand of Miss Fairfax. In the depth of his heart there +was a tenacious conviction that Bessie Fairfax loved him best in the +world--with a love that had grown with her growth and strengthened with +her strength, and would maintain itself independent of his failure or +success in life. But oh, that word _failure_! It touched him with a +dreadful chill. He turned pale at it, and resolutely averted his mind +from the idea. + +He left young Christie with as little ceremony as he had rejoined him, +and walked home to Brook, entering the garden from the wood. The first +sight that met him was Bessie Fairfax standing alone under the beeches. +At the moment he thought it was an illusion, for she was all in +bluish-gray amongst the shadows; but at the sound of the gate she turned +quickly and came forward to meet him. + +"I was just beginning to feel disappointed," said she impulsively. "Lady +Latimer brought me over to say good-bye, and we were told you had gone +to Littlemire. She is in the sitting-room with your mother. I came out +here." + +Harry's face flushed so warmly that he had no need to express his joy in +words. What a lucky event it was that he had met Mr. Wiley, and had been +turned back from his visit to his old tutor! He was fatigued with +excitement and his hurried walk, and he invited Bessie to sit with him +under the beeches where they used to sit watching the little stream as +it ran by at their feet. Bessie was nothing loath--she was thinking that +this was the last time they should meet for who could tell how long--and +she complied with all her old child-like submission to him, and a +certain sweet appealing womanly dignity, which, without daunting Harry +at all, compelled him to remember that she was not any longer a child. + +The young people were not visible from the sitting-room. Lady Latimer's +head was turned another way when Harry and Bessie met, but the instant +she missed her young charge she got up and looked out of the lattice. +The boles and sweeping branches of the great beeches hid the figures at +their feet, and Mrs. Musgrave, observing that dear Bessie was very fond +of the manor-garden, and had probably strolled into the wilderness, my +lady accepted the explanation and resumed her seat and her patience. + +Meanwhile, Harry did not waste his precious opportunity. He had this +advantage, that when he saw Bessie he saw only the fair face that he +worshipped, and thought nothing of her adventitious belongings, while in +her absence he saw her surrounded by them, and himself set at a vast +conventional distance. He said that the four years since she left +Beechhurst seemed but as one day, now they were together again in the +old familiar places, and she replied that she was glad he thought so, +for she thought so too. "I still call the Forest home, though I do not +pine in exile. I return to it the day after to-morrow," she told him. + +"Good little philosophical Bessie!" cried Harry, and relapsed into his +normal state of masculine superiority. + +Then they talked of themselves, past, present, and future--now with +animation, now again with dropped and saddened voices. The afternoon sun +twinkled in the many-paned lattices of the old house in the background, +and the brook sang on as it had sung from immemorial days before a stone +of the house was built. Harry gazed rather mournfully at the ivied walls +during one of their sudden silences, and then he told Bessie that the +proprietor was ill, and the manor would have a new owner by and by. + +"I trust he will not want to turn out my father and mother and pull it +down, but he is an improving landlord, and has built some excellent ugly +farmsteads on his other property. I have a clinging to it, and the +doctor says it would be well for me had I been born and bred in almost +any other place." + +Bessie sighed, and said deprecatingly, "Harry, you look as strong as a +castle. If it was Mr. Christie they were always warning, I should not +wonder, but _you_!" + +"But _me_! Little Christie looks as though a good puff of wind might +blow him away, and he is as tough as a pin-wire. I stand like a tower, +and they tell me the foundations are sinking. It sounds like a fable to +frighten me." + +"Harry dear, it is not serious; don't believe it. Everybody has to take +a little care. You must give up London and hard study if they try you. +We will all help you to bear the disappointment: I know it would be +cruel, but if you must, you must! Leaning towers, I've heard, stand +hundreds of years, and serve their purpose as well as towers that stand +erect." + +"Ah, Bessie, cunning little comforter! Tell me which is the worse--a +life that is a failure or death?" said Harry, watching the gyrations of +a straw that the eddies of the rivulet were whirling by. + +"Oh, death, death--there is no remedy for death." Bessie shuddered. +There was repulsion in her face as well as awe. + +Harry felt surprised: this was his own feeling, but women, he thought, +had more natural resignation. Not so, however, his young comrade. She +loved life, and hoped to see good days. He reminded her that she had +lost both her parents early. + +"Yes," she said, "but my other father and mother prevented me suffering +from their loss. I scarcely recollect it, I was such a happy child. It +would be different now if any of those, young like myself, that I have +grown up with and love very much, were to pass out of sight, and I had +to think that nowhere in the world could I find them any more." + +"It would touch you more personally. There was a young fellow drowned at +Oxford whom I knew: we were aghast for a day, but the next we were on +the river again. I recollect how bitterly you cried the morning your +father was buried; all the afternoon you refused to be comforted, even +by a sweet black puppy that I had brought over for the purpose, but in +the evening you took to it and carried it about in your pinafore. Oh, +God and time are very good to us. We lose one love, another steps in to +fill the void, and soon we do not remember that ever there was a void." + +Bessie was gazing straight away into heaven, her eyes full of sunshiny +tears, thoughts of the black puppy struggling with more pathetic +thoughts. "We are very dismal, Harry," said she presently. "Is the moral +of it how easily we should be consoled for each other's loss? Would you +not pity me if I died? I should almost die of your death, I think." + +"And if I am to live and never do any good, never to be famous, Bessie? +If I come to you some day beaten and jaded--no honors and glories, as I +used to promise--" + +"Why, Harry, unless it were your mother no one would be kinder to you +than I would," she said with exquisite tenderness, turning to look in +his face, for he spoke in a strained, low voice as if it hurt him. + +He took her hands, she not refusing to yield them, and said, "It is my +belief that we are as fond of each other as ever we were, Bessie, and +that neither of us will ever care half so much for anybody else?" + +"It is my belief too, Harry." Bessie's eyes shone and her tongue +trembled, but how happy she was! And he bowed his head for several +minutes in silence. + +There was a rustling in the bushes behind them, a bird perhaps, but the +noise recalled them to the present world--that and a whisper from +Bessie, smiling again for pure content: "Harry dear, we must not make +fools of ourselves now; my lady might descend upon us at any moment." + +Harry sighed, and looked up with great content. "It is a compact, +Bessie," said he, holding out his right hand. + +"Trust me, Harry," said she, and laid hers softly in his open palm. + +Mrs. Musgrave's voice was heard from the sitting-room window: "Bessie! +Bessie dear! where are you?--Lady Latimer wishes to go. Make haste--come +in." A bit of Bessie's blue-gray dress had betrayed her whereabouts. And +lo! the two young people emerged from the shelter of the trees, and +quite at their leisure sauntered up the lawn, talking with a sweet gay +confidence, just as they used to talk when they were boy and girl, and +Bessie came to tea at Brook, and they were the best friends in the +world. Harry's mother guessed in a moment what had happened. Lady +Latimer caught one glance and loftily averted her observation. + +They had to go round to the hall-door, and they did not hurry +themselves. They took time to assure one another how deep was their +happiness, their mutual confidence--to promise a frequent exchange of +letters, and to fear that they would not meet again before Bessie left +Fairfield. Lady Latimer was seated in the carriage when they appeared in +sight. Bessie got in meekly, and was bidden to be quicker. She smiled at +Harry, who looked divinely glad, and as they drove off rapidly +recollected that she had not said good-bye to his mother. + +"Never mind--Harry will explain," she said aloud: evidently her thoughts +were astray. + +"Explain what? I am afraid there are many things that need explanation," +said my lady austerely, and not another word until they reached home. +But Bessie's heart was in perfect peace, and her countenance reflected +nothing but the sunshine. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +_A LONG, DULL DAY._ + + +That evening Bessie Fairfax was charming, she was _so_ happy. She was +good and gracious again to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, and she was never +prettier. He basked in her content, without trying to understand +it--thought more than ever what a buoyant, sweet-tempered woman she +would be, to give a man rest and refreshment at home, whose active life +must be spent in the arid ways of the political world. Dora had her +conjectures, and whispered them, but Bessie made no revelation, gave no +confidences. + +It must be _ages_ before her league with Harry Musgrave could be +concluded, and therefore let it be still, as it had been always, +suspected, but not confessed--unless she were over-urged by Harry's +rival and her northern kinsfolk and friends. Then she would declare her +mind, but not before. Lady Latimer asked no questions. Her woman's +discernment was not at fault, but she had her own opinion of youthful +constancy and early loves and early vows, and believed that when they +were not to be approved they were to be most judiciously ignored. + +The next day was so fully occupied with engagements made beforehand that +Bessie had no chance of going again to Beechhurst, but she did not make +a grief of it--she could not have made a grief of anything just then. On +the last morning, however, to her dear surprise, the doctor stopped at +the door for a parting word of her mother's love and his own, and their +hopes that she would soon be coming amongst them again; and when she +went away an hour later she went as joyous as she had come, though she +knew that a report of her untoward behavior had gone before her, and +that the probabilities were she would enter into an atmosphere of clouds +the moment she reached Abbotsmead. + +But it did not prove so. Lady Latimer had written cautiously and +kindly--had not been able to give any assurance of Mr. Cecil Burleigh's +success, but had a feeling that it must come to pass. Elizabeth was a +sweet girl, though she had the self-will of a child; in many points she +was more of a child than my lady had supposed--in her estimate of +individuals, and of their weight and position in the world, for +instance--but this was a fault that knowledge of the world would cure. + +Mr. Fairfax was pleased to welcome his granddaughter home again, and +especially pleased to see no sadness in her return. The Forest was ever +so much nearer now--not out of her world at all. Bessie had travelled +that road once, and would travel it again. Every experience shortens +such roads, lessens such difficulties between true friends. Bessie's +acquaintances came to call upon her, and she talked of the pleasure it +had been to her to revisit the scenes of her childhood, of the few +changes that had happened there since she came away, and of the +hospitality of Lady Latimer. + +The lime trees were turning yellow and thin of leaf; there was a fire +all day in the octagon parlor. It was autumn in Woldshire, soon to be +winter. It seemed to Bessie on her return like resuming the dull routine +of a life that had gone on for a long while. Mrs. Stokes, as her nearest +and most neighborly neighbor, often ran across the park of an afternoon, +but Bessie's best delight was at post-time in the morning. Mr. Fairfax +never came down stairs to breakfast, and she had Harry Musgrave's +letters all to herself, undiscovered and undisturbed. + +The squire never regained his strength or his perfect moral control, and +the peculiar tempers of his previous life seemed to be exaggerated as +his natural force decayed. Mr. Oliver Smith was his most frequent and +welcome visitor. They talked together of events past and of friends long +since dead. Perhaps this was a little wearisome and painful now and then +to Mr. Oliver Smith, who retained his youthful sprightliness amidst more +serious sentiments. He would have had his old friend contemplate the +great future that was approaching, instead of the unalterable past. + +One day he said to Bessie, "I think your grandfather wanders in his mind +sometimes; I fear he is failing." + +"I don't know," was her reflective answer. "His thoughts often run on +his sister Dorothy and Lady Latimer: I hear him mutter to himself the +same words often, 'It was a lifelong mistake, Olympia.' But that is +true, is it not? He is as clear and collected as ever when he dictates +to me a letter on business; he makes use of me as his secretary." + +"Well, well! Let us hope, then, God may spare him to us for many years +to come," said Mr. Oliver Smith, with that conventional propriety of +speech which helps us through so many hard moments when feeling does not +dictate anything real to say. + +Bessie dwelt for some days after on that pious aspiration of her +grandfather's old friend, but the ache and tedium of life did not return +upon her. Her sense of duty and natural affection were very strong. She +told herself that if it were her lot to watch for many years beside this +dwindling flame, it was a lot of God's giving, not of her own seeking, +and therefore good. The letters that came to her from Beechhurst and +Caen breathed nothing but encouragement to love and patience, and Harry +Musgrave's letters were a perpetual fount of refreshment. What +delightful letters they were! He told, her whatever he thought would +interest or amuse her or make his life palpable to her. He sent her +books, he sent her proof-sheets to be read and returned: if Bessie had +not loved him so devotedly and all that belonged to him, she might have +thought his literature a tax on her leisure. It was a wonder to all who +knew her (without knowing her secret fund of joy) what a cheerful +countenance she wore through this dreary period of her youth. Within the +house she had no support but the old servants, and little change or +variety from without. Those kind old ladies, Miss Juliana and Miss +Charlotte Smith, were very good in coming to see her, and always +indulged her in a talk of Lady Latimer and Fairfield; Miss Burleigh +visited her occasionally for a day, but Lady Angleby kept out of the +shadow on principle--she could not bear to see it lengthening. She +enjoyed life very much, and would not be reminded of death if she could +help it. Her nephew spent Christmas at Norminster, and paid more than +one visit to Abbotsmead. Miss Fairfax was as glad as ever to see him. He +came like a breath of fresh air from the living outer world, and made no +pretensions to what he knew she had not to give. The engagement between +Miss Julia Gardiner and Mr. Brotherton had fallen through, for some +reason that was never fully explained, and Miss Burleigh began to think +her dear brother would marry poor Julia after all. + +Another of Bessie's pleasures was a day in Minster Court. One evening +she brought home a photograph of the three boys, and the old squire put +on his spectacles to look at it. She had ceased to urge reconciliation, +but she still hoped for it earnestly; and it came in time, but not at +all as she expected. One day--it was in the early spring--she was called +to her grandfather's room, and there she found Mr. John Short sitting in +council and looking exceedingly discontented. The table was strewn with +parchments and papers, and she was invited to take a seat in front of +the confusion. Then an abrupt question was put to her: Would she prefer +to have settled upon her the Abbey Lodge, which Colonel Stokes now +occupied as a yearly tenant, or a certain house in the suburbs of +Norminster going out towards Brentwood? + +"In what event?" she asked, coloring confusedly. + +"In the event of my death or your own establishment in life," said her +grandfather. "Your uncle Laurence will bring his family here, and I do +not imagine that you will choose to be one with them long; you will +prefer a home of your own." + +The wave of color passed from Bessie's face. "Dear grandpapa, don't talk +of such remote events; it is time enough to think of changes and decide +when the time comes," said she. + +"That is no answer, Elizabeth. Prudent people make their arrangements in +anticipation of changes, and their will in anticipation of death. Speak +plainly: do you like the lodge as a residence, or the vicinity of +Norminster?" + +"Dear grandpapa, if you were no longer here I should go home to the +Forest," Bessie said, and grew very pale. + +The old squire neither moved nor spoke for several minutes. He stared +out of the window, then he glanced at the lawyer and said, "You hear, +Short? now you will be convinced. She has not taken root enough to care +to live here any longer. She will go back to the Forest; all this time +she has been in exile, and cut off from those whom alone she loves. Why +should I keep her waiting at Abbotsmead for a release that may be slow +to come? Go now, Elizabeth, go now, if to stay wearies you;" and he +waved her to the door imperatively. + +Bessie rose trembling and left the room, tears and indignation +struggling for the mastery. "Oh, grandpapa! why will you say such +things?" was all her remonstrance, but she felt that there are some +wrongs in this life very hard to bear. + +Mr. John Short sat mute for some time after the young lady's departure. +The squire gloomed sorrowfully: "From first to last my course is nothing +but disappointment." + +"I wish, sir, that you could be prevailed on to see Mr. Laurence?" +suggested the lawyer. "His wife is a very good little lady, and the boys +you might be proud of. Pray, sir, give yourself that chance of happiness +for your closing days." + +"I had other plans. There will be no marriage, Short: I understand +Elizabeth. In warning me that she will return to the Forest when I am +gone, she just tells me that my hopes of her and Burleigh are all +moonshine. Well, let Laurence come. Let him come and take possession +with his children; they can leave me my corner of the house in peace. I +shall not need it very long. And Elizabeth can go _home_ when she +pleases." + +Mr. Fairfax's resentment was very bitter against Bessie, at first, for +the frank exposition she had made of her future intentions. She had +meant no unkindness, but simple honesty. He did not take it so, and when +her customary duty and service brought her next into his presence he +made her feel how deeply she had offended. He rejected her offer to read +to him, put aside her helping hand, and said he would have Jonquil to +assist him; she need not remain. He uttered no accusation against her +and no reproach; he gave her no opportunity of softening her abrupt +announcement; he just set her at a distance, as it were, and made +himself unapproachable. Bessie betook herself in haste to her white +parlor, to hide the blinding tears in her eyes and the mortification in +her heart. "And he wonders that so few love him!" she said to herself, +not without anger even in her pitiful yearning to be friends again. + +A week of alienation followed this scene, and Bessie was never more +miserable. Day by day she tried to resume her loving care of her +grandfather, and day by day she was coldly repulsed. Jonquil, Macky, +Mrs. Betts, all sympathized in silence; their young lady was less easy +to condole with now than when she was fresh from school. The old squire +was as wretched as he made his granddaughter. He had given permission +for his son to come to Abbotsmead, and he seemed in no haste to embrace +the permission. When he came at last, he brought little Justus with him, +but he had to say that it was only for a few hours. In fact, his wife +was extremely unwilling to abandon their happy, independent home in the +Minster Court, and he was equally unwilling to force her inclination. +Mr. Fairfax replied, "You know best," and gazed at his grandson, who, +from between his father's knees, gazed at him again without any advance +towards good-fellowship. A formal reconciliation ensued, but that was +all. For the kindness that springs out of a warm, affectionate nature +the old squire had to look to Elizabeth, and without any violent +transition they glided back into their former habits and relations. +Bessie was saddened a little by her late experiences, but she was not +quite new to the lesson that the world is a place of unsatisfied hopes +and defeated intentions. + +Mr. John Short was often to and fro between Abbotsmead and Norminster +during that summer, and an idea prevailed in the household that the +squire was altering his will again. His son Frederick had died +intestate, and the squire had taken possession of what he left. The poor +lady in seclusion at Caen died also about this time, and a large +addition was made to Mr. Fairfax's income--so large that his loss by the +Durham lawsuit was more than balanced. The lawyer looked far from +pleasant while transacting his client's business. It was true that Mr. +Frederick Fairfax had left no will, but he had expressed certain +distinct intentions, and these intentions, to the indignant astonishment +of many persons, his father would not carry out. Mr. Forbes talked to +him of the sacredness of his son's wishes, but the squire had a purpose +for the money, and was obstinate in his refusal to relinquish it. Some +people decided that thus he meant to enrich his granddaughter without +impoverishing Abbotsmead for his successor, but Mr. John Short's manner +to the young lady was tinctured with a respectful compassion that did +not augur well for her prospects. + +Bessie paid very little heed to the speculations of which she could not +fail to hear something. So long as her grandfather was tolerably kind +to her she asked no more from the present, and she left the future to +take care of itself. But it cannot be averred that he was invariably +kind. There seemed to lurk in his mind a sense of injury, which he +visited upon her in sarcastic gibes and allusions to the Forest, +taunting her with impatience to have done with him and begone to her +dearer friends. Bessie resented this for a little while, but by and by +she ceased to be affected, and treated it as the pettishness of a sick +old man, never used to be considerate for others. He kept her very much +confined and gave her scant thanks for her care of him. If Mr. Cecil +Burleigh admired patience and forbearance in a woman, he had the +opportunity of studying a fair example of both in her. He pitied her +secretly, but she put on no martyr-airs. "It is nothing. Oh no, +grandpapa is not difficult--it is only his way. Most people are testy +when they are ill," she would plead, and she believed what she said. The +early sense of repulsion and disappointment once overcome, she was too +sensible to bewail the want of unselfish affection where it had never +existed before. + +The squire had certain habits of long standing--habits of coldness, +distance, reserve, and he never changed materially. He survived through +the ensuing autumn and winter, and finally sank during the +north-easterly weather of the following spring, just two years after the +death of his son Frederick. Jonquil and Macky, who had been all his life +about him, were his most acceptable attendants. He did not care to have +his son Laurence with him, and when the children came over it was not by +his invitation. Mr. Forbes visited him almost daily, and Mr. Cecil +Burleigh came down from London twice at his request. Bessie remitted no +act of tender thoughtfulness; and one day, shortly before the end, he +said to her, "You are a good girl, Elizabeth." She smiled and said, "Am +I, grandpapa?" but his persistent coldness had brought back her shy +reticence, and neither said any more. Perhaps there was compunction in +the old man's mind--the cast of his countenance was continually that of +regret--but there was no drawing near in heart or confidence ever again, +and the squire died in the isolation of feeling with which living he had +chosen to surround himself. The world, his friends, neighbors, and +servants said that he died in honor respected by all who knew him; but +for long and long after Bessie could never think of his death without +tears--not because he had died, but because so little sorrow followed +him. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +_THE SQUIRE'S WILL._ + + +Throughout his life Mr. Fairfax had guided his actions by a certain rule +of justice that satisfied himself. The same rule was evident in his last +will. His granddaughter had given him to understand that she should +return to the Forest and cast in her lot with the humble friends from +amongst whom he had taken her, and the provision he made for her was +consonant with that determination. He bequeathed to her a sum of five +thousand pounds--a sufficient portion, as he considered, for that rank +in life--and to Mr. Cecil Burleigh he bequeathed the handsome fortune +that it was intended she should bring him in marriage. He had the dower +without the bride, and though Lady Angleby and his sister quietly +intimated to astonished friends that they had good reason to hope Miss +Fairfax would ultimately be no loser by her grandfather's will, her +uncle Laurence was not the only person by many who judged her unkindly +and unfairly treated. But it was impossible to dispute the old squire's +ability to dispose of his property, or his right to dispose of it as he +pleased. He had been mainly instrumental in raising Mr. Cecil Burleigh +to the position he occupied, and there was a certain obligation incurred +to support him in it. If Mr. Fairfax had chosen to make a son of him, no +one had a right to complain. No one did complain; the expression of +opinion was extremely guarded. + +Bessie was informed of the terms of her grandfather's will in the first +shock of surprise; afterward her uncle Laurence reflected that it would +have been wise to keep them from her, but the deed was done. She +received the news without emotion: she blushed, put up her eyebrows, and +smiled as she said, "Then I am a poor young woman again." She saw at +once what was absurd, pathetic, vexatious in her descent from the +dignity of riches, but she was not angry. She never uttered a word of +blame or reproach against her grandfather, and when it was indignantly +recalled to her that Mr. Cecil Burleigh was put into possession of what +ought to have been hers, she answered, "There is no ought in the matter. +Grandpapa had a lively interest in Mr. Cecil Burleigh's career, for the +sake of the country as well as for his own sake, and if you ask me my +sentiments I must confess that I feel the money grandpapa has left him +is well bestowed. It would be a shame that such a man should be hampered +by mean cares and insufficient fortune." + +"Oh, if you are satisfied that is enough," was the significant +rejoinder, and Lady Angleby's hopes had a wider echo. + +To Mr. Cecil Burleigh his old friend's bequest was a boon to be thankful +for, and he was profoundly thankful. It set him above troublesome +anxieties and lifted his private life into the sphere of comfort. But +his first visit to Abbotsmead and first meeting with Miss Fairfax after +it was communicated to him tried his courage not a little. The intimacy +that had been kept up, and even improved during Mr. Fairfax's decline, +had given him no grounds for hoping better success with Elizabeth as a +lover than before, and yet he was convinced that in leaving him this +fine fortune the squire had continued to indulge his expectations of +their ultimate union. That Elizabeth would be inclined towards him in +the slightest degree by the fact of his gaining the inheritance that she +had forfeited, he never for one moment dreamed; the contrary might be +possible, but not that. Amongst the many and important duties and +interests that engaged him now he had neither leisure nor desire for +sentimental philandering. He was a very busy man of the world, and +wished for the rest of a home. Insensibly his best thoughts reverted to +his dear Julia, never married, still his very good friend. He approved +the sweet rosy face of Elizabeth Fairfax, her bright spirit and loving, +unselfish disposition, but he found it impossible to flatter himself +that she would ever willingly become his wife. Lady Angleby insisted +that honor demanded a renewal of his offer, but Elizabeth never gave him +an opportunity; and there was an end of his uncertainties when she said +one day to his sister (after receiving an announcement of her own +approaching marriage to Mr. Forbes), "And there is nothing now to stand +between your brother and Miss Julia Gardiner. I am truly glad grandpapa +left him an independence, they have been so faithful to each other." + +Miss Burleigh looked up surprised, as if she thought Bessie must be +laughing at them. And Bessie was laughing. "Not quite constant perhaps, +but certainly faithful," she persisted. But Mr. Cecil Burleigh had +probably appreciated her blossoming youth more kindly than his dear +Julia had appreciated her autumnal widower. Bessie meant to convey that +neither had any right to complain of the other, and that was true. Miss +Burleigh carried Miss Fairfax's remarks to her brother, and after that +they were privately agreed that it would be poor Julia after all. + +Mr. Laurence Fairfax insisted that his niece should live at Abbotsmead, +and continue in possession of the white suite until she was of age. He +was her guardian, and would take no denial. + +"It wants but three months to that date," she told him. + +"Your home is here until you marry, Elizabeth," he rejoined in a tone +that forbade contradiction. "You shall visit Lady Latimer, but subject +to permission. Remember you are a Fairfax. Though you may go back to the +Forest, it is a delusion to imagine that you can live comfortably in the +crowded household where you were happy as a child. You have been six +years absent; three of them you have spent in the luxurious ease of +Abbotsmead. You have acquired the tastes and habits of your own class--a +very different class. You must look to me now: your pittance is not +enough for the common necessaries of life." + +"Not so very different a class, Uncle Laurence, and fortunately I am not +in bondage to luxurious ease," Bessie said. "But I will not be perverse. +Changes come without seeking, and I am of an adaptable disposition. The +other day I was supposed to be a great heiress--to-day I have no more +than a bare competence." + +"Not even that, but if you marry suitably you may be sure that I shall +make you a suitable settlement," rejoined her kinsman. Bessie speculated +in silence and many times again what her uncle Laurence might mean by +"suitably," but they had no explanation, and the occasion passed. + +Bessie's little fortune was vested in the hands of trustees, and settled +absolutely to her own use. She could not anticipate her income nor make +away with it, which Mr. Carnegie said was a very good thing. Beyond that +remark, and a generous reminder that her old nest under the thatch was +ready for her whenever she liked to return and take possession, nothing +was said in the letters from Beechhurst about her grandfather's will or +her new vicissitude. She had some difficulty in writing to announce her +latest change to Harry Musgrave, but he wrote back promptly and +decisively to set her heart at rest, telling her that to his notions her +fortune was a very pretty fortune, and avowing a prejudice against being +maintained by his wife: he would greatly prefer that she should be +dependent upon him. Bessie, who was a loving woman far more than a proud +or ambitious one, was pleased by his assurance, and in answering him +again she confessed that would have been her choice too. Nevertheless, +she became rather impatient to see him and talk the matter over--the +more so because Harry manifested little curiosity to learn anything of +her family affairs unless they immediately affected herself. He told her +that he should be able to go down to Brook at the end of August, and he +begged her to meet him there. This she promised, and it was understood +between them that if she was not invited to Fairfield she would go to +the doctor's house, even though the boys might be at home for their +holidays. + +Bessie was long enough at Abbotsmead after her grandfather's death to +realize how that event affected her own position there. The old servants +had been provided for by their old master, and they left--Jonquil, +Macky, Mrs. Betts, and others their contemporaries. Bessie missed their +friendly faces, and dispensed with the services of a maid. Then Mrs. +Fairfax objected to Joss in the house, lest he should bite the children, +and Janey and Ranby were not entirely at her beck and call as formerly. +The incompetent Sally, who sang a sweet cradle-song, became quite a +personage and sovereign in the nursery, and was jealous of Miss +Fairfax's intrusion into her domain. It was inevitable and natural, but +Bessie appreciated better now the forethought of her grandfather in +wishing to provide her with a roof of her own. Abbotsmead under its new +squire, all his learning and philosophy notwithstanding, promised to +become quite a house of the world again, for his beautiful young wife +was proving of a most popular character, and attracted friends about her +with no effort. Instead of old Lady Angleby, the Hartwell people and the +Chivertons, came the Tindals, Edens, Raymonds, Lefevres, and Wynards; +and Miss Fairfax felt herself an object of curiosity amongst them as the +young lady who had been all but disinherited for her obstinate refusal +to marry the man of her grandfather's choice. She was generally liked, +but she was not just then in the humor to cultivate anybody's intimacy. +Mrs. Stokes was still her chief resource when she was solitary. + +She had a private grief and anxiety of her own, of which she could speak +to none. One day her expected letter from Harry Musgrave did not come; +it was the first time he had failed her since their compact was made. +She wrote herself as usual, and asked why she was neglected. In reply +she received a letter, not from Harry himself, but from his friend +Christie, who was nursing him through an attack of inflammation +occasioned by a chill from remaining in his wet clothes after an upset +on the river. She gathered from it that Harry had been ill and suffering +for nearly a fortnight, but that he was better, though very weak, and +that if Christie had been permitted to do as he wished, Mrs. Musgrave +would have been sent for, but her son was imperative against it. He did +not think it was necessary to put her to that distress and +inconvenience, and as he was now in a fair way of recovery it was his +particular desire that she should not be alarmed and made nervous by any +information of what he had passed through. But he would not keep it from +his dear Bessie, who had greater firmness, and who might rest assured he +was well cared for, as Christie had brought him to his own house, and +his old woman was a capital cook--a very material comfort for a +convalescent. + +With a recollection of the warnings of a year and a half ago, Bessie +could not but ponder this news of Harry's illness with grave distress. +She wrote to Mr. Carnegie, and enclosed the letter for his opinion. Mr. +Carnegie respected her confidence, and told her that from the name of +the physician mentioned by Christie as in attendance on his patient he +was in the best possible hands. She confessed to Harry what she had +done, and he found no fault with her, but his next letter was in a vein +of melancholy humor from beginning to end. He was going back, he said, +to his dismal chambers, his law-books and his scribbling, and she was to +send him a very bright letter indeed to cheer him in his solitude. How +Bessie wished she could have flown herself to cheer him! And now, too, +she half regretted her poverty under her grandfather's will, that +deferred all hope of his rescue from London smoke and toil till he had +made the means of rescue for himself. But she gave him the pleasure of +knowing what she would do if she could. + +Thus the summer months lapsed away. There was no hiatus in their +correspondence again, but Harry told her that he had a constant fever on +him and was longing for home and rest. Once he wrote from Richmond, +whither he had gone with Christie, "The best fellow in the +universe--love him, dear Bessie, for my sake"--and once he spoke of +going to Italy for the winter, and of newspaper letters that were to pay +the shot. He was sad, humorous, tender by turns, but Bessie missed +something. There were allusions to the vanity of man's life and joy, now +and then there was a word of philosophy for future consolation, but of +present hope there was nothing. Her eyes used to grow dim over these +letters: she understood that Harry was giving in, that he found his life +too hard for him, and that he was trying to prepare her and himself for +this great disappointment. + +When Parliament rose Mr. Cecil Burleigh came down to Norminster and paid +a visit to Abbotsmead. He was the bearer of an invitation to Brentwood +and his sister's wedding, but Miss Fairfax was not able to accept it. +She had just accepted an invitation to Fairfield. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +_TENDER AND TRUE._ + + +Lady Latimer was in possession of all the facts and circumstances of her +guest's position when she arrived at Fairfield. Her grandfather's will +was notorious, and my lady did not entirely disapprove of it, as +Bessie's humbler friends did, for she still cherished expectations in +Mr. Cecil Burleigh's interest, and was not aware how far he was now from +entertaining any on his own account. Though she had convinced herself +that there was an unavowed engagement between Mr. Harry Musgrave and +Miss Fairfax, she was resolved to treat it and speak of it as a very +slight thing indeed, and one that must be set aside without weak +tenderness. Having such clear and decided views on the affair, she was +not afraid to state them even to Bessie herself. + +Harry Musgrave had not yet arrived at Brook, but after a day devoted to +her mother Bessie's next opportunity for a visit was devoted to Harry's +mother. She mentioned to Lady Latimer where she was going, and though my +lady looked stern she did not object. On Bessie's return, however, she +found something to say, and cast off all reserves: "Mr. Harry Musgrave +has not come, but he is coming. Had I known beforehand, I should have +preferred to have you here in his absence. Elizabeth, I shall consider +that young man very deficient in honorable feeling if he attempt to +interfere between you and your true interest." + +"That I am sure he never will," said Bessie with animation. + +"He is not over-modest. If you are advised by me you will be distant +with him--you will give him no advantage by which he may imagine himself +encouraged. Any foolish promise that you exchanged when you were last +here must be forgotten." + +Bessie replied with much quiet dignity: "You know, Lady Latimer, that I +was not brought up to think rank and riches essential, and the +experience I have had of them has not been so enticing that I should +care to sacrifice for their sake a true and tried affection. Harry +Musgrave and I are dear friends, and, since you speak to me so frankly, +I will tell you that we propose to be friends for life." + +Lady Latimer grew very red, very angry: "Do you tell me that you will +marry that young man--without birth, without means, without a profession +even? What has he, or is he, that should tempt you to throw away the +fine position that awaits your acceptance?" + +"He has a real kindness for me, a real unselfish love, and I would +rather be enriched with that than be ever so exalted. It is an old +promise. I always did love Harry Musgrave, and never anybody else." + +Lady Latimer fumed, walked about and sat down again: "How are you to +live?" + +"I don't know," said Bessie cheerfully. "Like other young people--partly +on our prospects. But we do not talk of marrying yet." + +"It is a relief to hear that you do not talk of marrying yet, though how +you can dream of marrying young Mr. Musgrave at all, when you have Mr. +Cecil Burleigh at your feet, is to me a strange, incomprehensible +infatuation." + +"Mr. Cecil Burleigh is not at my feet any longer. He has got up and gone +back to Miss Julia Gardiner's feet, which he ought never to have left. +Grandpapa's will has the effect of making two charming people happy, and +I am glad of it." + +"Is it possible?" said Lady Latimer in a low, chagrined voice. "Then you +have lost him. I presume that you felt the strain of such high +companionship too severe for you? Early habits cling very close." + +"He had no fascination for me; it was an effort sometimes." + +"You must have been carrying on a correspondence with Mr. Harry Musgrave +all this while." + +"We have corresponded during the last year," said Bessie calmly. + +"I blame myself that I ever gave the opportunity for a renewal of your +old friendliness. That is the secret of your wilfulness." + +"I loved Harry best--that is the secret of it," said Bessie; and she +turned away to close the discussion. + +It was a profound mortification to Lady Latimer to hear within the week +from various quarters that Mr. Cecil Burleigh was at Ryde, and to all +appearance on the happiest terms with Miss Julia Gardiner. And in fact +they were quietly married one morning by special license, and the next +news of them was that they were travelling in the Tyrol. + +It was about a week after this, when Bessie was spending a few hours +with her mother, that she heard of Harry Musgrave's arrival at Brook. It +was the doctor who brought the intelligence. He came into the little +drawing-room where his wife and Bessie were sitting, and said, "I called +at Brook in passing and saw poor Harry." + +"Well, Thomas, and how is he?" inquired Mrs. Carnegie in the anxious +tone a kind voice takes when asking after the health of a friend who may +be in a critical way. Bessie dropped her work and looked from one to the +other. + +The doctor did not answer directly, but, addressing Bessie, he said, +"You must not be shocked, my dear, when you see Harry Musgrave." + +"What is the matter? I have heard nothing: is he ill again?" cried +Bessie. + +"He must never go back to London," said Mr. Carnegie with a great sigh. + +"Is it so bad as that? Poor Harry!" said his wife in a sad, suppressed +tone. Bessie said nothing: her throat ached, her eyes burnt, but she was +too stunned and bewildered to inquire further, and yet she thought she +had been prepared for something like this. + +"He asked after you, Bessie, and when you would go to see him," the +doctor went on. + +"I will go now. It is not too late? he is not too tired? will he be +glad?" Bessie said, all in a breath. + +"Yes, he wants to talk to you; but you will have to walk all the way, +dear, and alone, for I have to go the other road." + +"Oh, the walk will not hurt me. And when I have seen him I will go back +to Fairfield. But tell me what ails him: has he been over-working, or is +it the results of his illness?" Bessie was very earnest to know all +there was to be known. + +"Work is not to blame: the lad was always more or less delicate, though +his frame was so powerful," Mr. Carnegie said with gravity. "He is out +of spirits, and he has had a warning to beware of the family complaint. +That is not to say it has marked him yet--he may live for years, with +care and prudence live to a good old age--but there is no public career +before him; and it is a terrible prospect, this giving up and coming +down, to a young fellow of his temper. His mother sits and looks at him, +beats on her knee, deplores the money spent on his college education, +and frets; you must try your hand at some other sort of consolation, +Bessie, for that will never do. Now, if you are going, my dear, you had +better start." + +Mrs. Carnegie wished she could have offered herself as Bessie's +companion, but she would have been an impediment rather than a help, and +Bessie set out alone. She had gone that way to Brook many and many a +time, but never quite alone before. It seemed, at first, strange to her +to be walking across the open heath by herself, and yet she felt, +somehow, as if it had all happened before--perhaps in a dream. It was a +warm afternoon towards six o'clock, and the August glow of the heather +in blossom spread everywhere like a purple sea. At the gate of the +Forest Farm the cows were gathered, with meek patience expecting their +call to the milking-shed; but after she passed under the shade of the +trees beyond Great-Ash Ford she met not a creature until she came in +sight of the wicket opening into the wood from the manor-garden. And +there was Harry Musgrave himself. + +Approaching over the turf with her light swift foot, Bessie drew quite +near to him unheard, and saw him before he saw her. He had seated +himself on a fallen tree, and leant his head on his hand in an easy +attitude; his countenance was abstracted rather than sad, and his eyes, +fixed on the violet and amber of the sky in the west, were full of +tranquil watching. Bessie's voice as she cried out his name was +tremulous with joy, and her face as he turned and saw her was beautiful +with the flush of young love's delight. + +"I was waiting for you. I knew you would come, my dear, my dear!" was +his greeting. They went into the garden hand in hand, silent: they +looked at each other with assured happiness. Harry said, "You are all in +black, Bessie." + +"Yes, for poor grandpapa: don't you remember? I will put it off +to-morrow if you dislike it." + +"Put it off; I _do_ dislike it: you have worn it long enough." They +directed their steps to their favorite seat under the beeches, but Mrs. +Musgrave, restless since her son's arrival, and ever on the watch, came +down to them with a plea that they would avoid the damp ground and +falling dew. The ground was dry as dust, and the sun would not set yet +for a good hour. + +"There is the sitting-room if you want to be by yourselves," she said +plaintively. "Perhaps you'll be able to persuade Harry to show some +sense, Bessie Fairfax, and feeling for his health: he won't listen to +his mother." + +She followed them into the spacious old room, and would have shut the +lattices because the curtains were gently flapping in the evening +breeze, but Harry protested: "Mother dear, let us have air--it is life +and pleasure to me. After the sultry languor of town this is delicious." + +"There you go, Harry, perverse as ever! He never could be made to mind a +draught, Bessie; and though he has just been told that consumption is in +the family, and carried off his uncle Walter--every bit as fine a young +man as himself--he pays no heed. He might as well have stopped on the +farm from the beginning, if this was to be the end. I am more mortified +than tongue can tell." + +Harry stood gazing at her with a pitiful patience, and said kindly, "You +fear too much, mother. I shall live to give you more trouble yet." + +"Even trouble's precious if that's all my son is likely to give me. I +would rather have trouble than nothing." She went out, closing the door +softly as if she were leaving a sick room. Bessie felt very sorry for +her, and when she looked at Harry again, and saw the expression of +helpless, painful regret in his face, she could have wept for them both. + +"Poor mother! she is bitterly disappointed in me, Bessie," he said, +dropping into one of the huge old elbow-chairs. + +"Oh, Harry, it is all her love! She will get over this, and you will +repay her hurt pride another day," cried Bessie, eager to comfort him. + +"Shall I, Bessie? But how? but when? We must take counsel together. +They have been telling me it is selfish and a sacrifice and unmanly to +bind Bessie to me now, but I see no sign that Bessie wants her freedom," +he said, looking at her with laughing, wistful eyes--always with that +sense of masculine triumph which Bessie's humility had encouraged. + +"Oh, Harry, I want no freedom but the freedom to love and serve you!" +cried she with a rush of tears and a hand held out to him. And then with +an irresistible, passionate sorrow she fell on her knees beside him and +hid her face on his shoulder. He put his arm round her and held her fast +for several minutes, himself too moved to speak. He guessed what this +sudden outburst of feeling meant: it meant that Bessie saw him so +altered, saw through his quiet humor into the deep anxiety of his heart. + +"I'll conceal nothing from you, Bessie: I don't think I have felt the +worst of my defeat yet," were his words when he spoke at last. She +listened, still on her knees: "It is a common thing to say that suspense +is worse to bear than certainty, but the certainty that destroys hope +and makes the future a blank is very like a millstone hanged round a +man's neck to sink him in a slough of despondency. I never really +believed it until Dr. Courteney told me that if I wish to save my life +it must be at the cost of my ambition; that I can never be an advocate, +a teacher, a preacher; that I shall have to go softly all my days, and +take care that the winds don't blow on me too roughly; that I must be an +exile from English fogs and cold, let me prefer home ever so dearly; +that I must read only a little, and write only a little, and avoid all +violent emotions, and be in fact the creature I have most despised--a +poor valetudinarian, always feeling my own pulse and considering my own +feelings." + +"You will have to change much more before you will come to that; and I +never knew you despise anybody, Harry," Bessie said with gentle +deprecation. "You had a tender heart from a boy, and others feel kindly +towards you." + +"And come what may, my dear little Bessie will keep her faith to me?" +said Harry looking down into her sweet eyes. + +"Yes, Harry." + +After a pause he spoke again: "You have done me good, dear; I shall rest +better for having talked to you to-night. It is in the night-time that +thought is terrible. For months past, ever since I was ill in the +spring, the foreshadow of failure has loomed dark and close upon me like +a suffocating weight--what I must do; how I must live without being a +tax on my father, if I am to live; what he and my mother would feel; +what old friends would say; who could or would help me to some harmless +occupation; and whether I should not, for everybody's sake, be better +out of the world." + +"Oh, Harry, but that was faint-hearted!" said Bessie with a touch of +reproach. "You forgot me, then?" + +"I have had several strokes of bad luck lately, or perhaps I ought to +suspect that not being in good case my work was weak. Manuscript after +manuscript has been returned on my hands. Surely this was discouraging. +There on the table is a roll of which I had better hopes, and I found it +awaiting me here." + +"May I take it to Fairfield and read it?" Bessie asked. "It is as big as +a book." + +"Yes; if it were printed and bound it would be a book. Read it, and let +me know how it impresses you." + +Bessie looked mightily glad. "If you will let me help you, Harry, you +will make me happy," said she. "What is it about?" + +"It is a story, for your comfort--a true story. I could not devise a +plot, so I fell back on a series of pathetic facts. Life is very sad, +Bessie. Why are we so fond of it?" + +"We take it in detail, as we take the hours of the day and the days of +the year, and it is very endurable. It has seemed to me sometimes that +those whom we call fortunate are the least happy, and that the hard lot +is often lifted into the sphere of blessedness. Consider Mr. and Mrs. +Moxon; they appear to have nothing to be thankful for, and yet in their +devotion to one another what perfect peace and consolation!" + +"Oh, Bessie, but it is a dreadful fate!" said Harry. "Poor Moxon! who +began life with as fine hopes and as solid grounds for them as any +man,--there he is vegetating at Littlemire still, his mind chiefly taken +up with thinking whether his sick wife will be a little more or a little +less suffering to-day than she was yesterday." + +"I saw them last week, and could have envied them. She is as near an +angel as a woman can be; and he was very contented in the garden, giving +lessons to a village boy in whom he has discovered a genius for +mathematics. He talked of nothing else." + +"Poor boy! poor genius! And are we to grow after the Moxons' pattern, +Bessie--meek, patient, heavenly?" said Harry. + +"By the time our hair is white, Harry, I have no objection, but there is +a long meanwhile," replied Bessie with brave uplooking face. "We have +love between us and about us, and that is the first thing. The best +pleasures are the cheapest--we burden life with too many needless cares. +You may do as much good in an obscure groove of the world as you might +do if your name was in all men's mouths. I don't believe that I admire +very successful people." + +"That is lucky for us both, since I am a poor fellow whose health has +given way--who is never likely to have any success at all." + +"You don't know, Harry; but this is not the time to remember pride and +ambition--it is the time to recover all the health and strength you can; +and with them hope and power will return. What do you most enjoy in the +absence of work?" + +"Fresh air, fine scenery, and the converse of men. To live plainly is no +hardship to me; it would be a great hardship to fall on lower +associations, which is the common destiny of the poor and decayed +scholar. You will save me, Bessie?" + +"Indeed I will!" And on this they clasped hands fervently. + +"Bessie, can we go to Italy together this winter? I dare not go alone: I +must have you to take care of me," pleaded Harry. + +"I will take care of you, Harry." Bessie was smiling, tearful, blushing, +and Harry said she was a dear, good girl, and he thanked her. + +After that there was some exposition of ways and means, and Bessie, +growing rosier and rosier, told Harry the story of that famous nest-egg, +concerning which she had been put to the blush before. He was very glad +to hear of it--very glad indeed, and much relieved, for it would make +that easy which he had been dwelling on as most of all desirable, but +hampered with difficulties that he could not himself remove. To see him +cheer up at this practical point was delightful to Bessie; it was like +his generous warm heart, equally open to give and to receive. She felt +almost too happy, and blessed the simple forethought of the doctor which +would justify them in remitting all care and anxiety to a future at +least two years off, and afford Harry leisure and opportunity to regain +his health and courage, and look about him for another vocation than +that he had chosen originally. + +"And you will find it, Harry, and perhaps you will love it better than +London and dusty law. I am sure I shall," prophesied Bessie gayly. + +Harry laughed at her obstinate prejudice; she pointed out that the +result had proved it a shrewd prejudice; and then they fell upon Italy +and talked travel-talk with the sanguine anticipations of young people +endowed with limitless curiosity and a genuine taste for simple +pleasures and each other's society. Harry's classical learning would be +everywhere available for the enhancement of these pleasures. + +At this stage of their previsions Mrs. Musgrave intervened, and Bessie +became conscious that the shades of evening were stealing over the +landscape. Mrs. Musgrave had on her bonnet, and was prepared to walk +with Bessie on the road to Fairfield until they should meet Mr. Musgrave +returning from Hampton, who would accompany her the rest of the way. +Harry wished to go in his mother's stead, but she was peremptory in +bidding him stay where he was, and Bessie supported her. "No, Harry, not +to-night--another time," she said, and he yielded at once. + +"I'm sure his mother thanks you," said Mrs. Musgrave as they went out. +"He was so jaded this morning when he arrived that the tears came into +his eyes at a word, and Mr. Carnegie said that showed how thoroughly +done he is." + +Tears in Harry's eyes! Bessie thought of him with a most pitiful +tenderness. "Oh," she said, "we must all be good to him: he does not +look so ill to me as he looks tired. We must keep up his spirits and his +hope for himself. I see no cause for despair." + +"You are young, Bessie Fairfax, and it is easy for you to hope that +everything will turn out for the best, but it is a sore trial for his +father and me to have our expectation taken away. If Harry would have +been advised when he left college, he would never have gone to London. +But it is no use talking of that now. I wish we could see what he is to +do for a living; he will fret his heart out doing nothing at Brook." + +"Oh, Mrs. Musgrave, with a quire of paper and one of your gray +goosequills Harry will be preserved from the mischief of doing nothing. +You must let me come over and cheer him sometimes." + +"If things had turned out different with my poor son, all might have +been different. You have a good, affectionate disposition, Bessie, and +there is nobody Harry prizes as he prizes you; but a young man whose +health is indifferent and who has no prospects--what is that for a young +lady?" Mrs. Musgrave began to cry. + +"Don't cry, dear Mrs. Musgrave; if you cry, that will hurt Harry worse +than anything," said Bessie energetically. "He feels his disappointment +more for his father and you than for himself. His health is not so bad +but that it will mend; and as for his prospects, it is not wise to +impress upon him that the cloud he is under now may never disperse. 'A +cheerful heart doeth good like a medicine.' Have a cheerful heart again. +It will come with trying." + +They had not yet met Mr. Musgrave, though they were nearly a mile on the +road, but Bessie would not permit the poor mother to walk any farther +with her. They parted with a kiss. "And God for ever bless you, Bessie +Fairfax, if you have it in your heart to be to Harry what nobody else +can be," said his mother, laying her tremulous hands on the girl's +shoulders. Bessie kissed her again and went on her way rejoicing. This +was one of the happiest hours her life had ever known. She was not +tempted to dwell wantonly on the dark side of events present, and there +were so many brighter possibilities in the future that she could +entirely act out the divine precept to let the morrow take thought for +the things of itself. + +When Bessie Fairfax reached Fairfield, Roberts informed her in a +depressed manner that her ladyship was waiting dinner. Bessie started at +this view of her impolite absence, and hastened to the drawing-room to +apologize. But Lady Latimer coldly waived her explanations, and Bessie +felt very self-reproachful until an idea occurred to her what she would +do. After a brief retreat and rapid toilet she reappeared with Harry's +manuscript in her hand, and with simple craft displaying the roll, she +said, "This is for us to read--a true story. It is not in print yet, but +Mr. Harry Musgrave writes a plain hand. We are to give him our opinion +of it. I believe that, after all, he will be a poor author--one of my +heroes, Lady Latimer." + +"One of your heroes, Elizabeth? There is nothing very heroic in Mr. +Logger," rejoined my lady softening, and holding out her hand for the +manuscript. "Is the young man very ill?" + +"No, no--not so ill that we need fear his dying inglorious without +giving the world something to remember him by, but discouraged by the +dicta of friends and physicians, who consign him to idleness and +obscurity for a year or two." + +"Which idleness and obscurity I presume it is your wish to alleviate?" +said Lady Latimer with half-contemptuous resignation. "Come to dinner +now: we will read your hero's story afterward." + +Lady Latimer's personal interests were so few that it was a necessity +for her generous soul to adopt the interests of other people. She kept +Bessie reading until eleven o'clock, when she was dismissed to bed and +ordered to leave the manuscript below, lest she should sit up and read +it when she ought to be asleep. But what Bessie might not do my lady was +quite at liberty to do herself, and she made an end of the tale before +she retired. And not only that. She wrote to Mr. Logger to recommend a +publisher, and to ask how proper payment could be assured to a young and +unknown author. She described the story to the veteran critic as a sad, +pretty story of true love (which people go on believing in), sensibly +written, without serious flaws of taste or grammar, and really worth +reading if one had nothing else to do. In the morning she informed +Bessie of what she had done. Bessie was not quite sure that Harry would +feel gratified at being placed under the protection of her ladyship and +Mr. Logger; but as she could not well revoke the letter that was +written, she said nothing against it, and Lady Latimer was busy and +happy for a week in the expectation that she was doing something for +"the unfortunate young man." But at the week's end Mr. Logger dashed her +confidence with the answer that he had not been able to meet with any +publisher willing to pay money down for a sad, pretty story of true love +by an unknown author: sad, pretty stories of true love were a drug in +the literary market. She was grievously disappointed. Bessie was the +same, and as she had confessed a hope to Harry, she had to carry to him +the tidings of failure. If he was sorry, it was for her regret, but they +soon began to talk of other things. They had agreed that if good luck +came they would be glad, and if bad luck they would pass it lightly +over. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +_GOODNESS PREVAILS_. + + +Desirous as Lady Latimer was to do Mr. Harry Musgrave a service, her +good-will towards him ended there. She perversely affected to believe +that Miss Fairfax's avowed promise to him constituted no engagement, and +on this plea put impediments in the way of her visits to Brook, lest a +handle should be given to gossip. Bessie herself was not concerned to +hinder gossip. With the exception of Lady Latimer, all her old friends +in the Forest were ready to give her their blessing. The Wileys were +more and more astonished that she should be so short-sighted, but Mr. +Phipps shook her by both hands and expressed his cordial approbation, +and Miss Buff advised her to have her own way, and let those who were +vexed please themselves again. + +Bessie suffered hours of argument from my lady, who, when she found she +could prevail nothing, took refuge in a sort of scornful, compassionate +silence. These silences were, however, of brief duration. She appealed +to Mr. Carnegie, who gave her for answer that Bessie was old enough to +know her own mind, and if that leant towards Mr. Harry Musgrave, so much +the better for him; if she were a weak, impulsive girl, he would advise +delay and probation, but she was of full age and had a good sensible +head of her own; she knew Mr. Harry Musgrave's circumstances, tastes, +prejudices, and habits--what she would gain in marrying him, and what +she would resign. What more was there to say? Mr. Laurence Fairfax had +neither the power nor the will to interpose authoritatively; he made +inquiries into Mr. Harry Musgrave's university career, and talked of him +to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, who replied with magnanimity that but for the +break-down of his health he was undoubtedly one of those young men from +whose early achievement and mental force the highest successes might +have been expected in after-life. Thereupon Mr. Laurence Fairfax and his +gentle wife pitied him, and could not condemn Elizabeth. + +Mrs. Carnegie considered that Bessie manifested signal prudence, +forethought, and trust in God when she proposed that her nest-egg, which +was now near a thousand pounds, should supply the means of living in +Italy for a couple of years, without reference to what might come after. +But when Elizabeth wrote to her uncle Laurence to announce what manner +of life she was preparing to enter upon, and what provision was made for +it, though he admired her courage he wrote back that it should not be so +severely tested. It was his intention to give her the portion that would +have been her father's--not so much as the old squire had destined for +her had she married as he wished (that, she knew, had gone another way), +but a competence sufficient to live on, whether at home or abroad. He +told her that one-half of her fortune ought to be settled on Mr. Harry +Musgrave, to revert to her if he died first, and he concluded by +offering himself as one of her trustees. + +This generous letter made Bessie very glad, and having shown it to Lady +Latimer at breakfast, she went off with it to Brook directly after. She +found Harry in the sitting-room, turning out the contents of his old +desk. In his hand at the moment of her entrance was the white rose that +he had taken from her at Bayeux; it kept its fragrance still. She gave +him her uncle's letter to read, and when he had read it he said, "If I +did not love you so much, Bessie, this would be a burden painful to +bear." + +"Then don't let us speak of it--let me bear it. I am pleased that my +uncle Laurence should be so good to us. When you meet I know you will be +friends. He is in elysium when he can get a good scholar to talk to, and +he will want you to send him all sorts of archaeological intelligence +from Rome." + +"I have a piece of news too--hopeful news from Christie," said Harry, +producing one of the artist's rapid scratches. "It is to tell me that he +is on the committee of a new illustrated magazine of art which is to +start at Christmas, and that he is sure I can help them with the +letter-press department while we are in Italy." + +"Of course you can. And they will require a story: that sweet story of +yours has some picture bits that would be exquisite if they fell into +the hands of a sympathetic artist. Let us send it to Christie, Harry +dear." + +"Very well: nothing venture, nothing have. The manuscript is with you. +Take Christie's letter for his address; you will see that he wants an +answer without loss of time. He is going to be married very shortly, and +will be out of town till November." + +"I will despatch the story by to-day's post, and a few lines of what I +think of it: independent criticism is useful sometimes." + +Harry looked at her, laughing and saying with a humorous deprecation, +"Bessie's independent criticism!" + +Bessie blushed and laughed too, but steadfastly affirmed, "Indeed, +Harry, if I did not think it the prettiest story I ever read I would not +tell you so. Lady Latimer said it was pretty, and you cannot accuse her +of loving you too much." + +"No. And that brings me to another matter. I wish you would come away +from Fairfield: come here, Bessie. In this rambling old house there is +room enough and to spare, and you shall have all the liberty you please. +I don't see you as often or for as long as I want, and the order of +things is quite reversed: I would much rather set out to walk to you +than wait and watch for your appearance." + +"Had I not better go home? My little old nest under the thatch is empty, +and the boys are away." + +"Come here first for a week; we have never stayed in one house together +since we were children. I want to see my dear little Bessie every hour +of the day. At Fairfield you are caged. When her ladyship puts on her +grand manner and towers she is very daunting to a poor lover." + +"She has not seen you since you left London, Harry. I should like you to +meet; then I think she might forgive us," said Bessie, with a wistful +regret. Sometimes she was highly indignant with my lady, but in the +depths of her heart there was always a fund of affection, admiration, +and respect for the idol of her childish days. + +The morning but one after this Bessie's anxious desire that my lady and +her dear Harry should meet was unexpectedly gratified. It was about +halfway towards noon when she was considering whether or no she could +with peace and propriety bring forward her wish to go again to Brook, +when Lady Latimer hurried down from her sanctum, which overlooked the +drive, saying, "Elizabeth, here is young Mr. Musgrave on horseback; run +and bid him come in and rest. He is giving some message to Roberts and +going away." + +"Oh, please ask him yourself," said Bessie, but at the same moment she +hastened out to the door. + +It was a sultry, oppressive morning, and Harry looked languid and +ill--more ill than Bessie had ever seen him look. She felt inexpressibly +shocked and pained, and he smiled as if to relieve her, while he held +out a letter that he had been on the point of entrusting to Roberts: +"From that excellent fellow, Christie. Your independent criticism has +opened his eyes to the beauties of my story, and he declares that he +shall claim the landscape bits himself." + +Lady Latimer advanced with a pale, grave face, and invited the young man +to dismount. There was something of entreaty in her voice: "The +morning-room is the coolest, Elizabeth--take Mr. Musgrave there. I shall +be occupied until luncheon, but I hope you will be able to persuade him +to stay." + +Bessie's lips repeated, "Stay," and Harry not unthankfully entered the +house. He dropt into a great easy-chair and put up one hand to cover his +eyes, and so continued for several minutes. Lady Latimer stood an +instant looking at him with a pitiful, scared gaze, and then, avoiding +Bessie's face, she turned and left the lovers together. Bessie laid her +hand on Harry's shoulder and spoke kindly to him: he was tired, the +atmosphere was very close and took away his strength. After a while he +recovered himself and said something about Christie's friendliness, and +perhaps if _he_ illustrated the story they should see reminiscences of +the manor-garden and of Great-Ash Ford, and other favorite spots in the +Forest. They did not talk much or eagerly at all, but Christie's +commendation of the sad pretty story of true love was a distinct +pleasure to them both, and especially to Harry. His mother had begged +him to stop at home and let the letter be sent over to Fairfield, but he +wanted the gratification of telling Bessie his news himself; and the +ride in the hot, airless weather had been too fatiguing. Bessie took up +a piece of work and sat by the window, silent, soothing. He turned his +chair to face her, and from his position he had a distant view of the +sea--a dark blue line on the horizon. He had been fond of the sea and of +boats from his first school-days at Hampton, and as he contemplated its +great remote calm a longing to be out upon it took possession of him, +which he immediately confessed to Bessie. Bessie did not think he need +long in vain for that--it was easy of accomplishment. He said yes--Ryde +was not far, and a Ryde wherry was a capital craft for sailing. + +Just as he was speaking Lady Latimer came back bringing some delicious +fruit for Harry's refreshment. "What is that you are saying about Ryde?" +she inquired quickly. "I am going to Ryde for a week or two, and as I +shall take Elizabeth with me, you can come to us there, Mr. Musgrave, +and enjoy the salt breezes. It is very relaxing in the Forest at this +season." + +Bessie by a glance supplicated Harry to be gracious, and in obedience to +her mute entreaty he thanked her ladyship and said it would give him the +truest pleasure. My lady had never thought of going to Ryde until that +moment, but since she had seen Harry Musgrave and had been struck by the +tragedy of his countenance, and all that was meant by his having to fall +out of the race of life so early, she was impelled by an irresistible +goodness of nature to be kind and generous to him. Robust people, +healthy, wealthy, and wise, she could let alone, but poverty, sickness, +or any manner of trouble appealed straight to her noble heart, and +brought out all her spirit of Christian fellowship. She was prompt and +thorough in doing a good action, and when she met the young people at +luncheon her arrangements for going to the island were all made, and she +announced that the next day, in the cool of the evening, they would +drive to Hampton and cross by the last boat to Ryde. This sudden and +complete revolution in her behavior was not owing to any change in +principle, but to sheer pitifulness of temper. She had not realized +before what an immense disaster and overthrow young Musgrave was +suffering, but at the sight of his pathetic visage and weakened frame, +and of Elizabeth's exquisite tenderness, she knew that such great love +must be given to him for consolation and a shield against despair. It +was quite within the scope of her imagination to depict the temptations +of a powerful and aspiring mind reduced to bondage and inaction by the +development of inherited disease: to herself it would have been of all +fates the most terrible, and thus she fancied it for him. But in Harry +Musgrave's nature there was no bitterness or fierce revolt, no angry +sarcasm against an unjust world or stinging remorse for fault of his +own. Defeat was his destiny, and he bowed to it as the old Greek heroes +bowed to the decree of the gods, and laughed sometimes at the impotence +of misfortune to fetter the free flight of his thoughts. And Elizabeth +was his angel of peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +_CERTAIN OPINIONS_. + + +The house that Lady Latimer always occupied on her visits to Ryde was +away from the town and the pier, amongst the green fields going out +towards Binstead. It had a shaded garden down to the sea, and a +landing-place of its own when the tide was in. A balcony, looking north, +made the narrow drawing-room spacious, and my lady and her despatch-box +were established in a cool room below, adjoining the dining-parlor. She +did not like the pier or the strand, with their shoals of company in the +season, and took her drives out on the white roads to Wootton and +Newport, Osborne and Cowes, commonly accompanied by some poor friend to +whom a drive was an unfrequent pleasure. She never trusted herself to a +small boat, and as for the wherry that bore Harry Musgrave and Elizabeth +every morning flying before the wind for three delicious hours, she +appreciated its boasted safety so slightly that she was always relieved +to see them safe back again, whether they landed at the foot of the +garden or came through the town. It was beautiful weather, with fine +fresh breezes all the week, and Harry looked and felt so much like a new +man at the end of it that my lady insisted on his remaining a second +week, when they would all return to the Forest together. He had given +her the highest satisfaction by so visibly taking the benefit of her +hospitality, and had made great way in her private esteem besides. +Amongst her many friends and acquaintances then at Ryde, for every day's +dinner she chose one gentleman for the sake of good talk that Mr. Harry +Musgrave might not tire, and the breadth and diversity of the young +man's knowledge and interests surprised her. + +One evening after some especially amusing conversation with a travelled +doctor, who was great in the scientific study of botany and beetles, she +said to Elizabeth when they were alone, "What a pity! what a grievous +pity! There is no position brains and energy can win that Mr. Harry +Musgrave might not raise himself to if his health were equal to his +mental capacity. And with what dignity and fortitude he bears his +condemnation to a desultory, obscure existence! I had no idea there +could be so much sweet patience in a man. Do you anticipate that it will +be always so?" + +"Harry is very happy now, and I do not look forward much or far," +Elizabeth said quietly. "People say men are so different from women, but +after all they must be more like women than like anything else. So I try +sometimes to put myself in Harry's place, and I know there will be +fluctuations--perhaps, even a sense of waste and blankness now and then, +and a waking up of regret. But he has no envious littleness of mind and +no irritability of temper: when he is feeling ill he will feel low. But +our life need not be dull or restricted, and he has naturally a most +enjoying humor." + +"And he will have you--I think, after all, Elizabeth, you have found +your vocation--to love and to serve; a blessed vocation for those called +to it, but full of sorrows to those who take it up when the world and +pride have disappointed them." + +Elizabeth knew that my lady was reflecting on herself. They were both +silent for a few minutes, and then Elizabeth went on: "Harry and I have +been thinking that a yacht would be an excellent establishment for us to +begin with--a yacht that would be fit to coast along France, and could +be laid up at Bordeaux while we rest for the winter at Arcachon--or, if +we are of a mind to go farther, that would carry us to the +Mediterranean. Harry loves a city, and Bologna attracts his present +curiosity: I tell him because it was once a famous school of law." + +"Bologna is a most interesting city. He would be well amused there," +said my lady. "It has a learned society, and is full of antiquities and +pictures. It is in the midst of a magnificent country too. I spent a +month there once with Lord Latimer, and we found the drives in the +vicinity unparalleled. You cannot do better than go to Bologna. Take +your yacht round to one of the Adriatic ports--to Venice. I can supply +you with guide-books. I perceive that Mr. Harry Musgrave must be well +entertained. A Ryde wherry with you in the morning is the perfection of +entertainment, but he has an evident relish for sound masculine +discourse in the evening: we must not be too exacting." + +Bessie colored slightly and laughed. "I don't think that I am very +exacting," she said. "I am sure whatever Harry likes he shall do, for +me. I know he wants the converse of men; he classes it with fine scenery +and fresh air as one of the three delights that he most inclines to, +since hard work is forbidden him. Bologna will be better than Arcachon +for the winter." + +"Yes, if the climate be suitable. We must find out what the climate is, +or you may alter your plans again. I have not heard yet when the great +event is to take place--when you are to be married." + +"My father thinks that Harry should avoid the late autumn in the +Forest--the fall of the leaf," Bessie began with rosy diffidence. + +"But you have made no preparations? And there are the settlements!" +exclaimed Lady Latimer, anxiously. + +"Our preparations are going on. My uncle Laurence and Mr. Carnegie will +be our trustees; they have consulted Harry, I know, and the settlements +are in progress. Oh, there will be no difficulty." + +"But the wedding will be at Abbotsmead, since Mr. Laurence Fairfax gives +his countenance?" Lady Latimer suggested interrogatively. + +Bessie's blush deepened: "No. I have promised Harry that it shall be at +Beechhurst, and very quiet. Therefore when we return to the Forest I +shall have to ask you to leave me at the doctor's house." + +Lady Latimer was silent and astonished. Then she said with emphasis: +"Elizabeth, I cannot approve of that plan. If you will not go to +Abbotsmead, why not be married from Fairfield? I shall be glad to render +you every assistance." + +"You are very, very kind, but Harry would not like it," pleaded Bessie. + +"You are too indulgent, Elizabeth. Harry would not like it, indeed! Why +should he have everything his own way?" + +"Oh, Lady Latimer, I am sure you would not have the heart to cross him +yourself!" cried Bessie. + +My lady looked up at her sharply, but Elizabeth's face was quite +serious: "He has rallied wonderfully during the week--rallied both his +strength and his spirits. It is fortunate he has that buoyancy. Every +girl loves a gay wedding." + +"It would be peculiarly distasteful to Harry under the circumstances, +and I would not give him pain for the world," Bessie said warmly. + +"He is as well able to bear a little contradiction as the rest of us," +said Lady Latimer, looking lofty. "In my day the lady was consulted. Now +everything must be arranged to accommodate the gentleman. I'm sure we +are grown very humble!" + +Bessie looked meekly on the carpet and did not belie my lady's words. +Something in her air was provoking--perhaps that very meekness, in +certain lights so foreign to her character--for Lady Latimer colored, +and continued in her frostiest tone: "If you are ashamed of the +connection you are forming, that justifies your not inviting the world +to look on at your wedding, which ought to be an hour of pride and +triumph to a girl." + +Bessie's meekness vanished in a blush: "And it will be an hour of +triumph to me. Ashamed! Harry Musgrave is to me the best and dearest +heart that breathes," she exclaimed; and my lady was too well advised to +prolong the argument, especially as she felt that it would be useless. + +Harry Musgrave was not grudging of his gratitude for real kindness, and +though, when he was in his stronger mood, Lady Latimer was perhaps still +disposed to huff him, the next hour she was as good as she knew how to +be. The visit to the island was productive of excellent results in the +way of a better understanding, and my lady made no more opposition to +Elizabeth's leaving her and taking up her abode in Mr. Carnegie's house +until her marriage. + +For a day or two the triangular nest under the thatch felt small and +confined to Bessie, but one morning the rustic sweetness of honeysuckle +blowing in at the open lattice awoke in her memory a thousand happy +childish recollections and brought back all the dear home-feelings. Then +Harry Musgrave was more like his original self here than elsewhere. +Insensibly he fell into his easy boyish pleasantry of manner, and +announced himself as more secure of his fate when he found Bessie +sitting in company with a work-basket in the pretty, low, old-fashioned +drawing-room, perfumed with roses overflowing the china bowl. Bessie had +a perfect notion of the fitness of things, and as simplicity of dress +seemed best suited to her beauty in that place, she attired herself in +her plainest and most becoming gown, and Harry looked her over +approvingly and called her his dear little Bessie again. The doctor, her +mother, the children, every early friend out of the house, was glad, and +congratulated her upon her return to the Forest and to them. And now and +then, in the dreamy length of the days when she sat thinking, all the +interval of time and all the change of scene, circumstance, and faces +since she first went away appeared to her like a dream of the night +when it is gone. + +Of course she had to listen to the moralities of this last vicissitude +from her various friends. + +Said Miss Buff confidentially, "There is a vast deal more in +surroundings, Bessie, than people like to admit. We are all under their +influence. If we had seen you at Abbotsmead, we might have pitied your +sacrifice, but when we see you at the doctor's in your sprigged cambric +dresses, and your beautiful wavy hair in the style we remember, it seems +the most right and natural thing in the world that you should marry Mr. +Harry Musgrave--no condescension in it. But I did not _quite_ feel that +while you were at Fairfield, though I commended your resolution to have +your own way. Now that you are here you are just Bessie Fairfax--only +the doctor's little daughter. And that goes in proof of what I always +maintain--that grand people, where they are not known, ought never to +divest themselves of the outward and visible signs of their grandness; +for Nature has not been bountiful to them all with either wit or sense, +manners or beauty, though there are toadies everywhere able to discern +in them the virtues and graces suitable to their rank." + +"Lady Latimer looks her part upon the stage," said Bessie. + +"But how many don't! The countess of Harbro', for instance; who that did +not know her would take her for anything but a common person? Insolent +woman she is! She found fault with the choir to me last Sunday, as if I +were a singing-mistress and she paid my salary. Has old Phipps confessed +how you have astonished him and falsified his predictions?" + +"I am not aware that I have done anything to astonish anybody. I fancied +that I had pleased Mr. Phipps rather than otherwise," said Bessie with a +quiet smile. + +"And so you have. He is gratified that a young lady of quality should +have the pluck to make a marriage of affection in a rank so far below +her own, considering nothing but the personal worth of the man she +marries." + +"I have never been able to discover the hard and fast conventional lines +that are supposed to separate ranks. There is an affectation in these +matters which practically deludes nobody. A liberal education and the +refinements of wealth are too extensively diffused for those whose pride +it is that they have done nothing but vegetate on one spot of land for +generations to hold themselves aloof as a superior caste. The +pretensions of some of them are evident, but only evident to be +ridiculous--like the pretensions of those who, newly enriched by trade, +decline all but what they describe as carriage-company." + +"The poor gentry are eager enough to marry money, but that does not +prevent them sneering at the way the money is made," Miss Buff said. +"Even Lady Latimer herself, speaking of the family who have taken +Admiral Parkins's house for three months, said it was a pity they should +come to a place like Beechhurst, for the gentlefolk would not call upon +them, and they would feel themselves above associating with the +tradespeople. They are the great tea-dealers in Cheapside." + +"Oh, if they are not vulgar and ostentatious, Lady Latimer will soon +forget her prejudice against the tea." + +"And invite them to her garden-parties like the rest of us? No doubt she +will; she likes to know everybody. Then some connection with other +people of her acquaintance will come out, or she will learn that they +are influential with the charitable institutions by reason of their +handsome donations, or that they have an uncle high in the Church, or a +daughter married into the brewing interest. Oh, the ramifications of +society are infinite, and it is safest not to lay too much stress on the +tea to begin with." + +"Much the safest," Mr. Phipps, who had just come in, agreed. "The +tea-dealer is very rich, and money (we have Solomon's word for it) is a +defence. He is not aware of needing her ladyship's patronage. I expect, +Miss Fairfax, that, drifting up and down and to and fro in your +vicissitudes, you have found all classes much more alike than +different?" + +"Yes. The refinements and vulgarities are the monopoly of no degree; +only I think the conceit of moral superiority is common to us all," said +Bessie, and she laughed. + +"And well it may be, since the axiom that _noblesse oblige_ has fallen +into desuetude, and the word of a gentleman is no more to swear by than +a huckster's. Tom and Jerry's wives go to court, and the arbitrary +edict of fashion constitutes the latest barbaric importation _bon ton_ +for a season. I have been giving Harry Musgrave the benefit of my +wanderings in Italy thirty years ago, and he is so enchanted that you +will have to turn gypsy again next spring, Miss Fairfax." + +"It will suit me exactly--a mule or an ox-cart instead of the train, +byways for highways, and sauntering for speed. Did I not tell you long +ago, Mr. Phipps, that the gypsy wildness was in the Fairfax blood, and +that some day it would be my fate to travel ever so far and wide, and to +come home again browner than any berry?" + +"Why, you see, Miss Fairfax, the wisest seer is occasionally blind, and +you are that rare bird, a consistent woman. Knowing the great lady you +most admired, I feared for you some fatal act of imitation. But, thank +God! you have had grace given you to appreciate a simple-minded, lovable +fellow, who will take you out of conventional bonds, and help you to +bend your life round in a perfect circle. You are the happiest woman it +has been my lot to meet with." + +Bessie did not speak, but she looked up gratefully in the face of her +old friend. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +_BESSIE'S LAST RIDE WITH THE DOCTOR._ + + +Mr. Carnegie complained that he had less of his dear Bessie's company +than anybody else by reason of his own busy occupation, and one clear +September morning, when the air was wonderfully fresh and sweet after a +thunderstorm during the night, he asked her to come out for a last ride +with him before Harry Musgrave carried her away. Bessie donned her habit +and hat, and went gladly: the ride would serve as a leavetaking of some +of her friends in the cottages whom otherwise she might miss. + +In the village they met Miss Buff, going off to the school to hear the +Bible read and teach the Catechism--works of supererogation under the +new system, which Mr. Wiley had thankfully remitted to her on account +of her popularity with parents and children. + +"Your duty to your neighbor and your duty to God and the ten +commandments--nothing else, because of the Dissenters," she explained in +a bustle. "Imagine the vulgarity of an education for the poor from which +the Bible may be omitted! Dreadful! I persuade the children to get +certain of the psalms, proverbs, and parables by heart out of school. +Bless you! they like that; but as for teaching them such abstract +knowledge as what an adverb or an isthmus is, or the height of Mont +Blanc, I defy you! And it is all fudge. Will they sweep a room or make +an apple-dumpling the better for it? Not they. But fix it in their minds +that whatever their hands find to do they must do it with their might, +and there is a chance that they will sweep into the corners and pare the +apples thin. But I have no time to spare, so good-bye, good-bye!" + +The general opinion of Beechhurst was with Miss Buff, who was making a +stand upon the ancient ways in opposition to the superior master of Lady +Latimer's selection, whose chief tendency was towards grammar, physical +geography, and advanced arithmetic, which told well in the inspector's +report. Miss Buff was strong also in the matter of needle, work and +knitting--she would even have had the boys knit--but here she had +sustained defeat. + +Mr. Carnegie's first visit was to Mrs. Christie, who, since she had +recovered her normal state of health, had resumed her habit of drugging +and complaining. Her son was now at home, and when the doctor and Bessie +rode across the green to the wheelwright's house there was the artist at +work, with a companion under his white umbrella. His companion wore a +maize pique dress and a crimson sash; a large leghorn hat, garnished +with poppies and wheat-ears, hid her face. + +"There is Miss Fairfax herself, Janey," whispered young Christie in an +encouraging tone. "Don't be afraid." + +Janey half raised her head and gazed at Bessie with shy, distrustful +eyes. Bessie, quite unconscious, reined in Miss Hoyden under the shadow +of a spreading tree to wait while the doctor paid his visit in-doors. +She perceived that there was a whispering between the two under the +white umbrella, and with a pleasant recognition of the young man she +looked another way. After the lapse of a few minutes he approached her, +an unusual modest suffusion overspreading his pale face, and said, "Miss +Fairfax, there is somebody here you once knew. She is very timid, and +says she dares not claim your remembrance, because you must have thought +she had forgotten you." + +Bessie turned her head towards the diffident small personage who was +regarding her from the distance. "Is it Janey Fricker?" she asked with a +pleased, amused light in her face. + +"It is Janey Christie." In fact, the artist was now making his +wedding-tour, and Janey was his wife. + +"Oh," said Bessie, "then this was why your portfolio was so full of +sketches at Yarmouth. I wish I had known before." + +Janey's face was one universal blush as she came forward and looked up +in Miss Fairfax's handsome, beneficent face. There had always been an +indulgent protectiveness in Bessie's manner to the master-mariner's +little daughter, and it came back quite naturally. Janey expected hasty +questions, perhaps reproaches, perhaps coldness, but none of these were +in Bessie's way. She had never felt herself ill used by Janey, and in +the joy of the sudden rencounter did not recollect that she had anything +to forgive. She said how she had lived in the hope of a meeting again +with Janey some day, and what a delightful thing it was to meet thus--to +find that her dear little comrade at school was married to Harry +Musgrave's best friend! Janey had heard from her husband all the story +of Bessie's faithful love, but she was too timid and self-doubting to be +very cordial or responsive. Bessie therefore talked for both--promised +herself a renewal of their early friendship, and expressed an hospitable +wish that Mr. Christie would bring his wife to visit them in Italy next +year when he took his holiday. Christie promised that he would, and +thought Miss Fairfax more than ever good and charming; but Janey was +almost happier when Bessie rode away with Mr. Carnegie and she was +permitted to retire into seclusion again under the white umbrella. The +artist had chosen him a helpmeet who could be very devoted in private +life, but who would never care for his professional honors or public +reputation. Bessie heard afterward that the master-mariner was dead, +and the place in her heart that he had held was now her husband's. With +her own more expansive and affectionate nature she felt a genial warmth +of satisfaction in the meeting, and as she trotted along with the doctor +she told him about Janey at school, and thought herself most fortunate +to have been riding with him that morning. + +"For I really fear the little shy creature would never have come near me +had I not fallen in with her where she could not escape," said she. + +"Christie has been even less ambitious in his marriage than yourself, +Bessie," was the doctor's reply. "That one-idead little woman may +worship him, but she will be no help. She will not attract friends to +his house, even if she be not jealous of them; and he will have to go +out and leave her at home; and that is a pity, for an artist ought to +live in the world." + +"She is docile, but not trustful. Oh, he will tame her, and she will try +to please him," said Bessie cheerfully. "She fancied that I must have +forgotten her, when there was rarely a day that she did not come into my +mind. And she says the same of me, yet neither of us ever wrote or made +any effort to find the other out." + +"Let us hope that you have both contracted a more serviceable friendship +in another direction," said the doctor, and Bessie laughed. She was +aware that his estimate of feminine friendship was not exalted. + +About half a mile farther, where a byroad turned off towards Fairfield, +the riders came upon a remarkable group in high debate over a +donkey--Lady Latimer, Gampling the tinker, and the rural policeman. My +lady instantly summoned Mr. Carnegie to her succor in the fray, which, +to judge from her countenance and the stolid visage of the emissary of +the law, was obstinate. It appeared that the policeman claimed to arrest +the donkey and convey him to the pound. The dry and hungry beast had +been tethered by his master in the early morning where a hedge and +margin of sward bordered the domain of Admiral Parkins. Uninstructed in +modern law, he broke loose and strayed along the green, cropping here +and there a succulent shoot of thorn or thistle, until, when +approaching repletion, he was surprised by the policeman, reprimanded, +captured, and led ignominiously towards the gaol for vagrant animals--a +donkey that everybody knew. + +"He's took the innicent ass into custody, and me he's going to summons +and get fined," Gampling exclaimed, his indignation not abated by the +appearance of another friend upon the scene, for a friend he still +counted the doctor, though he persisted in his refusal to mend his +kettles and pots and pans. + +"Is not this an excess of zeal, Cobb?" remonstrated Mr. Carnegie. +"Suppose you let the ass off this time, and consider him warned not to +do it again?" + +"Sir, my instructions is not to pass over any infringement of the new +h'act. Straying is to be put down," said Cobb stiffly. + +"This here ass have earned his living honest a matter of eight year, and +naught ever laid agen his character afore by high nor low," pleaded +Gampling, growing pathetic as authority grew more stern. "Her ladyship +and the doctor will speak a good word for him, and there's others as +will." + +"Afore the bench it may be of vally and go to lowering the fine," said +the invincible exponent of the law; "I ain't nothing to do with that." + +"I'll tell you where it is, Cobb," urged Gampling, swelling into anger +again. "This here ass knows more o' nat'ral justice than the whole +boiling o' new h'acts. He'd never be the man to walk into her ladyship's +garden an' eat up her flowerbeds: raason why, he'd get a jolly good +hiding if he did. But he says to hisself, he says, when he sees a nice +bite o' clover or a sow-thistle by the roadside: "This here's what's +left for the poor, the fatherless, and the widder--it ain't much, but +thank God for small mercies!'--an' he falls to. Who's he robbed, I +should like to know?" + +"You must ask the admiral that when you come up before the magistrates +on Saturday," rejoined Cobb severely--his professional virtue sustained, +perhaps, by the presence of witnesses. + +Gampling besides being an itinerant tinker was also an itinerant +political preacher, and seeing that he could prevail nothing by secular +pleas, he betook himself to his spiritual armory, and in a voice of sour +derision that made Bessie Fairfax cringe asked the doctor if he had yet +received the Devil's Decalogue according to h'act of Parliament and +justices' notices that might be read on every wall?--and he proceeded to +recite it: "Thou shalt remove the old landmarks, and enter into the +fields of the poor. Thou shalt wholly reap the corners of thy fields and +gather the gleanings of thy harvest: thou shalt leave nothing for the +poor and the stranger. If a wayfarer that is a-hungered pluck the ears +of corn and eat, thou shalt hale him before the magistrates, and he +shall be cast into prison. Thou shalt turn away thy face from every poor +man, and if thy brother ask bread of thee, thou shalt give him neither +money nor food." + +Mr. Carnegie made a gesture to silence the tinker, for he had thrown +himself into an oratorical attitude, and shouted out the new +commandments at the top of his voice, emphasizing each clause with his +right fist brought down each time more passionately on the palm of his +left hand. But his humor had grown savage, and with his eyes glowing +like hot coals in his blackened visage he went on, his tone rising to a +hoarse, hysteric yell: "Thou shalt oppress the poor, and forbid to teach +the gospel in the schools, lest they learn to cry unto their God, and He +hear them, and they turn again and rend thee." + +"What use is there in saying the thing that is not, Gampling?" demanded +Lady Latimer impetuously. "The Bible _is_ read in our schools. And if +you workingmen take advantage of the privileges that you have won, you +ought to be strong enough, both in and out of Parliament, to prevent any +new act being made in violation of the spirit of either law or gospel." + +"I can't argy with your ladyship--it would be uncivil to say you talk +bosh," replied the tinker as suddenly despondent as he had been furious. +"I know that every year makes this world worse for poor honest folk to +live in, an' that there's more an' more h'acts to break one's shins +over. Who would ha' thowt as ever my old ass could arn me a fine an' +costs o' a summons by nibbling a mouthful o' green meat on the queen's +highway, God bless her! I've done." + +My lady endeavored to make Gampling hear that she would pay his fine +(if fined he were), but he refused to listen, and went off, shaking his +head and bemoaning the hard pass the world was come to. + +"It is almost incredible the power of interference that is given to the +police," said Lady Latimer. "That wretched young Burt and his mother +were taken up by Cobb last week and made to walk to Hampton for lying on +the heath asleep in the sun; nothing else--that was their crime. +Fortunately, the magistrates had the humanity to discharge them." + +"Poor souls! they are stamped for vagabonds. But young Burt will not +trouble police or magistrates much longer now," said the doctor. + +In fact, he had that very morning done with troubling anybody. When Mr. +Carnegie pulled up ten minutes later at the door of a forlorn hovel +which was the present shelter of the once decent widow, he had no need +to dismount. "Ride on, Bessie," he said softly, and Bessie rode on. +Widow Burt came out to speak to the doctor, her lean face scorched to +the color of a brick, her clothing ragged, her hair unkempt, her eyes +wild as the eyes of a hunted animal. + +"He's gone, sir," she said, pointing in-doors to where a long, +motionless figure seated in a chair was covered with a ragged patchwork +quilt. The doctor nodded gravely, paused, asked if she were alone. + +"Mrs. Wallop sat up with us last night--she's very good, is Mrs. +Wallop--but first thing this morning Bunny came along to fetch her to +his wife, and she'd hardly got out o' sight when poor Tom stretched +hisself like a bairn that's waked up and is going to drop off to sleep +again, an' with one great sigh was dead. Miss Wort comes most mornings: +here she is." + +Yes, there was Miss Wort, plunging head foremost through the heather by +way of making a short cut. She saw at a glance what had happened, and +taking both the poor mother's hands in her own, she addressed the doctor +with tears in her eyes and tremulous anger in her voice: "I shall always +say that it is a bad and cruel thing to send boys to prison, or anybody +whose temptation is hunger. How can we tell what we should do ourselves? +We are not wiser than the Bible, and we are taught to pray God lest we +be poor and steal. Tom would never have come to be what he was but for +that dreadful month at Whitchester. Instead of shutting up village-boys +and hurting their health if they have done anything wrong, why can't +they be ordered to wear a fool's cap for a week, going about their +ordinary work? Our eyes would be on them, and they would not have a +chance of picking and stealing again; it would give us a little more +trouble at first, but not in the long run, and save taxes for prisons. +People would say, 'There goes a poor thief,' and they would be sorry for +him, and wonder why he did it; and we ought to look after our own +things. And then, if they turned out incorrigible, they might be shut up +or sent out of the way of temptation. Oh, if those who have the power +were only a little more considerate, and would learn to put themselves +in their place!" + +Mr. Carnegie said that Miss Wort's queer suggestion was capable of +development, and there was too much sending of poor and young people to +prison for light offences--offences of ignorance often, for which a +reprimand and compensation would be enough. Bessie had never seen him +more saddened. + +Their next and last visit was to Littlemire. Mr. Moxon was in his +garden, working without his coat. He came forward, putting the +threadbare garment on, and begged Miss Fairfax to go up stairs and see +his wife. This was one of her good days, as she called the days when the +aching weariness of her perpetual confinement was a degree abated, and +she welcomed her visitor with a cry of plaintive joy, kissed her, gazed +at her fondly through glittering tears. + +Bessie did not know that she had been loved so much. Girl-like, she had +brought her tribute of flowers to the invalid's room, had wondered at +this half-paralyzed life that was surrounded by such an atmosphere of +peace; and when, during her last visit, she had realized what a +compensation for all sorrow was this peace, she had not yet understood +what an ardor of sympathy kept the poor sufferer's heart warm towards +those whose brighter lot had nothing in common with her own. + +"Oh, my love," she said in a sweet, thrilling voice, "dear Harry +Musgrave has been to tell me of his happiness. I am so glad for you +both--so very, very glad!" She did not pause to let Bessie respond, but +ran on with her recollections of Harry since he was a boy and came first +to read with her husband. "His thoughtfulness was really quite +beautiful; he never forgot to be kind. Oh, my dear, you may thoroughly +rely on his fine, affectionate temper. Rarely did he come to a lesson +without bringing me some message from his mother and little present in +his hand--a few flowers, a spring chicken, some nice fruit, a partridge. +This queer rustic scaffold for my books and work, Harry constructed it +himself, and I would not exchange it for the most elegant and ingenious +of whatnots. I could do nothing for him but listen to his long thoughts +and aspirations: that was when you were out of hearing, and he could +neither talk nor write to his dear little Bessie." + +"It was a great gap, but it did not make us strangers," said Bessie. + +"When he went to Oxford he sent us word of his arrival, and how he liked +his college and his tutor--matters that were as interesting to us as if +he had been our own. And when he found how welcome his letters were, he +wrote to Mr. Moxon often, and sent him any report or pamphlet that he +thought might please him; and several times he gave himself the trouble +both at the Bodleian and in London to search for and copy out extracts +from works that Mr. Moxon wanted and had no means of procuring here. You +can have no idea how helpful he has been to my husband in such things. +Poor fellow! what a grief it was to us that term he had to stay away +from Oxford on account of his health! Already we began to fear for the +future, but his buoyant spirit would not anticipate any permanent +hindrance to his progress; and that check did make him more prudent. But +it is not to be; he sees himself cut short of the career where he +planned to be famous; he gives way, however, to neither anger nor +repining. Oh, my love! that I could win you to believe that if you clasp +this cross to your heart, as the gift of Him who cannot err, you will +never feel it a burden!" + +Bessie smiled. She did not feel it a burden now, and Harry was not +abandoned to carry its weight alone. She did not speak: she was not apt +at the expression of her religious feelings, but they were sincere as +far as life had taught her. She could have lent her ears for a long +while to Harry Musgrave's praises without growing weary, but the vicar +now appeared, followed by the doctor, talking in a high, cheerful voice +of that discovery he had made of a remarkable mathematical genius in +Littlemire: "A most practical fellow, a wonderful hard head--will turn +out an enterprising engineer, an inventor, perhaps; has the patience of +Job himself, and an infinite genius for taking pains." + +Bessie recollected rather pathetically having once heard the sanguine, +good vicar use very similar terms in speaking of her beloved Harry. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +_FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE._ + + +Towards the end of September, Harry Musgrave and Bessie Fairfax were +married. Lady Latimer protested against this conclusion by her absence, +but she permitted Dora Meadows to go to the church to look on. The +wedding differed but very little from other weddings. Harry Musgrave was +attended by his friend Forsyth, and Polly and Totty Carnegie were the +bridesmaids. Mr. Moxon married the young couple, and Mr. Carnegie gave +the bride away. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was present, and the occasion was +further embellished by little Christie and Janey in their recent wedding +garments, and by Miss Buff and Mr. Phipps, whose cheerful appearance in +company gave rise to some ingenious prophetic remarks. The village folks +pronounced the newly-wedded pair to be the handsomest they had seen +married at Beechhurst church for many a long year, and perhaps it was +lucky that Lady Latimer stayed away, for there was nothing in Mr. Harry +Musgrave's air or countenance to cheat her into commiseration. + +"Elizabeth looked lovely--so beautifully happy," Dora Meadows reported. +"And Mr. Harry Musgrave went through the ceremony with composure: Miss +Buff said he was as cool as a cucumber. I should think he is a +faithless, unsentimental sort of person, Aunt Olympia." + +"Indeed! because he was composed?" inquired my lady coldly. + +Dora found it easier to express an opinion than to give her reasons for +it: all that Aunt Olympia could gather from her rather incoherent +attempts at explanation was that Mr. Harry Musgrave had possibly feigned +to be worse than he was until he had made sure of Elizabeth's tender +heart, for he appeared to be in very good case, both as to health and +spirits. + +"He might have died for Elizabeth if she had not loved him; and whatever +he is or is not, he most assuredly would never voluntarily have given up +the chances of an honorable career for the sake of living in idleness +even with Elizabeth. You talk nonsense, Dora. There may be persons as +foolish and contemptible as you suppose, but Elizabeth has more wit than +to have set her affections on such a one." Poor Dora was silenced. My +lady was peremptory and decisive, as usual. When Dora had duly repented +of her silly suggestion, Aunt Olympia's natural curiosity to hear +everything prevailed over her momentary caprice of ill-humor, and she +was permitted to recite the wedding in all its details--even to Mrs. +Musgrave's silk gown and the pretty little bridesmaids' dresses. The +bridegroom only she prudently omitted, and was sarcastically rebuked for +the omission by and by with the query, "And the bridegroom was nowhere, +then?" + +The bells broke out several times in the course of the day, and the +event served for a week's talk after it was over. The projected +yacht-voyage had been given up, and the young people travelled in all +simplicity, with very little baggage and no attendant except Mrs. Betts. +They went through Normandy until they came to Bayeux, where Madame +Fournier was spending the long vacation at the house of her brother the +canon, as her custom was. In the twilight of a hot autumnal evening they +went to call upon her. Lancelot's watering-can had diffused its final +shower, and the oleanders and pomegranates, grateful for the refreshing +coolness, were giving out their most delicious odors. The canon and +madame were sipping their _cafe noir_ after dinner, seated in the +verandah towards the garden, and Madame Babette, the toil of the day +over, was dozing and reposing under the bowery sweet clematis at the end +by her own domain. + +The elderly people welcomed their young visitors with hospitable +warmth. Two more chairs were brought out and two cups of _cafe noir_, +and the visit was prolonged into the warm harvest moonlight with news of +friends and acquaintances. Bessie heard that the venerable _cure_ of St. +Jean's still presided over his flock at Caen, and occupied the chintz +edifice like a shower-bath which was the school-confessional. Miss +Foster was married to a _brave fermier_, and Bessie was assured that she +would not recognize that depressed and neuralgic _demoiselle_ in the +stout and prosperous _fermiere_ she had developed into. Mdlle. Adelaide +was also married; and Louise, that pretty portress, in spite of the +raids of the conscription amongst the young men of her _pays_, had found +a shrewd young innkeeper, the only son of a widow, who was so wishful to +convert her into madame at the sign of the Croix Rouge that she had +consented, and now another Louise, also very pretty, took cautious +observation of visitors before admission through the little trap of the +wicket in the Rue St. Jean. + +Then Madame Fournier inquired with respectful interest concerning her +distinguished pupil, Madame Chiverton, of whose splendid marriage in +Paris a report had reached her through her nephew. Was Monsieur +Chiverton so very rich? was he so very old and ugly? was he good to his +beautiful wife? Monsieur Chiverton, Bessie believed, was perfectly +devoted and submissive to his wife--he was not handsome nor youthful--he +had great estates and held a conspicuous position. Madame replied with +an air of satisfaction that proud Miss Ada would be in her element then, +for she was born to be a grand lady, and her own family was so poor that +she was utterly without _dot_--else, added madame with some mystery, she +might have found a _parti_ in the imperial court: there had been a brave +marshal who was also duke. Here the amiable old lady checked herself, +and said with kind reassurance to the unambitious Bessie, "But, _ma +cherie_, you have chosen well for your happiness. Your Harry is +excellent; you have both such gayety of heart, like _us_--not like the +English, who are _si maussade_ often." + +Bessie would not allow that the English are _maussade_, but madame +refused to believe herself mistaken. + +Mr. and Mrs. Harry Musgrave still carry their gayety of heart wherever +they go. They are not fashionable people, but people like to know them. +They have adopted Italy for their country, and are most at home in +Florence, but they do not find their other home in England too far off +for frequent visits. + +They are still only two, and move about often and easily, and see more +than most travellers do, for they charter queer private conveyances for +themselves, and leave the beaten ways for devious paths that look +attractive and often turn out great successes. It was during one of +these excursions--an excursion into the Brianza--that they not long ago +fell in with a large party of old friends from England, come together +fortuitously at Bellagio. Descending early in the evening from the +luxuriant hills across which they had been driving through a long green +June day, they halted at the hospitable open gate of the Villa Giulia. +There was a pony-carriage at the door, and another carriage just moving +off after the discharge of its freight. + +"Oh, Aunt Olympia, look here! Mr. Harry Musgrave and Elizabeth!" cried a +happy voice, and there, behold! were my Lady Latimer and Dora--Lady +Lucas now--and Sir Edward; and turning back to see and asking, "Who? +who?" came Mr. Oliver Smith and his sisters, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh and +his dear Julia. + +To Bessie it was a delightful encounter, and Harry Musgrave, if his +enthusiasm was not quite so eager, certainly enjoyed it as much, for his +disposition was always sociable. My lady, after a warm embrace and six +words to Elizabeth, said, "You will dine with me--we are all dining +together this evening;" and she communicated her commands to one of the +attendants. It was exactly as at home: my lady took the lead, and +everybody was under her orders. Bessie liked it for old custom's sake; +Mrs. Cecil Burleigh stood a little at a loss, and asked, "What are we to +do?" + +The Cecil Burleighs were not staying at the Villa Giulia--they were at +another hotel on the hill above--and the Lucases, abroad on their +wedding-tour, were at a villa on the edge of the lake. They had been +making a picnic with Lady Latimer and her party that day, and were just +returning when the young Musgraves appeared. The dinner was served in a +room looking upon the garden, and afterward the company walked out upon +the terraces, fell into groups and exchanged news. My lady had already +enjoyed long conversations with Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Sir Edward Lucas, +and she now took Mr. Harry Musgrave to talk to. Harry slipped his hand +within his wife's arm to make her a third in the chat, but as it was +information on Roman politics and social reforms my lady chiefly wanted, +Bessie presently released herself and joined the wistful Dora, who was +longing to give her a brief history of her own wooing and wedding. +Before the tale was told Sir Edward joined them in the rose-bower +whither they had retreated, and contributed some general news from +Norminster and Abbotsmead and the neighborhood. Lady Angleby had adopted +another niece for spaniel, _vice_ Mrs Forbes promoted to Kirkham +vicarage, and her favorite clergyman, Mr. Jones, had been made rural +dean; Mrs Stokes had a little girl; Mrs. Chiverton was carrying on a +hundred beneficent projects to the Woldshire world's wonder and +admiration: she had even prevailed against Morte. + +"And I believe she would have prevailed had poor Gifford lived; she is a +most energetic woman," Sir Edward said. Bessie looked up inquiringly. +"Mr. Gifford died of malignant fever last autumn," Sir Edward told her. +"He went to Morte in pursuit of some incorrigible poacher when fever was +raging there, and took it in its most virulent form; his death proved an +irresistible argument against the place, and Blagg made a virtue of +necessity and razed his hovels." + +Bessie heard further that her uncle Laurence Fairfax had announced the +principle that it is unwise for landowners to expect a direct profit +from the cottages and gardens of their laboring tenants, and was putting +it into practice on the Kirkham estates, to the great comfort and +advantage of his dependants. + +"My Edward began it," whispered Dora, not satisfied that her husband +should lose the honor that to him belonged. + +"Yes," said Bessie, "I remember what sensible, kind views he always took +of his duties and responsibilities." + + +"And another thing he has done," continued the little lady. "While other +men are enclosing every waste roadside scrap they dare, he has thrown +open again a large meadow by the river which once upon a time was free +to the villagers on the payment of a shilling a head for each cow turned +out upon it. The gardens to the new cottages are planted with fruit +trees, and you cannot think what interest is added to the people's lives +when they have to attend to what is pleasant and profitable for +themselves. It cannot be a happy feeling to be always toiling for a +master and never for one's own. There! Edward has taken himself off, so +I may tell you that there never was anybody so good as he is, so +generous and considerate." + +Dora evidently regarded her spouse with serious, old-fashioned devotion +and honor. Bessie smiled. She could have borne an equal tribute to her +dear Harry, and probably if Mrs. Cecil Burleigh had been as effusive as +these young folks, she might have done the same; for while they talked +in the rose-bower Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his wife came by, she leaning +on his arm and looking up and listening as to the words of an oracle. + +"Is she not sweet? What a pity it would have been had those two not +married!" said Dora softly, and they passed out of sight. + +"Come out and see the roses," Lady Latimer said to Elizabeth through the +window early next morning. "They are beautiful with the dew upon them." + +Harry Musgrave and his wife were at breakfast, with a good deal of +litter about the room. Botanical and other specimens were on the +window-sill, on the table was a sheaf of popular Italian street-songs +collected in various cities, and numerous loose leaves of manuscript. +Harry had decided that Bellagio was a pleasant spot to rest in for a +week or so, and Bessie had produced their work in divers kinds. They +were going to have a delightful quiet morning of it, when my lady tapped +on the glass and invited Elizabeth out to admire the roses. + +"Don't stay away long," whispered Harry to his wife, rising to pay his +compliments. + +He did not reseat himself to enjoy his tranquil labors for nearly an +hour, and Bessie stood in her cool white dress like a statue of +Patience, hearing Lady Latimer discourse until the sun had evaporated +the dew from the roses. Then Miss Juliana and Miss Charlotte appeared, +returning from a stroll beyond the bounds of the garden, and announced +that the day was growing very hot. "Yes, it is almost too hot to walk +now; but will you come to my room, Elizabeth? I have some photographs +that I am sure would interest you," urged my lady. She seemed surprised +and displeased when Harry entreated comically that his wife might not be +taken away, waving his hand to the numerous tasks that awaited them. + +"We also have photographs: let us compare them in the drowsy hours of +afternoon," said he; and when Bessie offered to hush his odd speeches, +he boldly averred that she was indispensable: "She has allowed me to get +into the bad habit of not being able to work without her." + +My lady could only take her leave with a hope that they would be at +leisure later in the day, and was soon after seen to foregather with an +American gentleman as ardent in the pursuit of knowledge as herself. +Afterward she found her way to the village school, and had an +instructive interview with an old priest; and on the way back to the +Villa Giulia, falling in with a very poor woman and two barefooted +little boys, her children, she administered charitable relief and earned +many heartfelt blessings. The review of photographs took place in the +afternoon, as Harry suggested, and in the cool of the evening, after the +_table d'hote_, they had a boat on the lake and paid the Lucases a visit +before their departure for Como. Then they sauntered home to their inn +by narrow, circuitous lanes between walled gardens--steep, stony lanes +where, by and by, they came upon an iron gate standing open for the +convenience of a man who was busy within amongst the graves, for this +was the little cemetery of Bellagio. It had its grand ponderosity in +stone and marble sacred to the memory of noble dust, and a throng of +poor iron crosses, leaning this way and that amidst the unkempt, tall +grasses. + +Lady Latimer walked in; Harry Musgrave and Bessie waited outside. My +lady had many questions to ask of the gardener about the tenants of the +vaults beneath the huge monuments, and many inscriptions upon the wall +to read--pathetic, quaint, or fulsome. At length she turned to rejoin +her companions. They were gazing through a locked grate into a tiny +garden where were two graves only--a verdant little spot over which the +roses hung in clouds of beauty and fragrance. An inscription on a slab +sunk in the wall stated that this piece of ground was given for a +burial-place to his country-people by an Englishman who had there buried +his only son. The other denizen of the narrow plat was Dorothea Fairfax, +at whose head and feet were white marble stones, the sculpture on them +as distinct as yesterday. Bessie turned away with tears in her eyes. + +"What is it?" said my lady sharply, and peered through the grate. Harry +Musgrave had walked on. When Lady Latimer looked round her face was +stern and cold, and the pleasant light had gone out of it. Without +meeting Elizabeth's glance she spoke: "The dead are always in the right; +the living always in the wrong. I had forgotten it was at Bellagio that +Dorothy died. Has Oliver seen it, I wonder? I must tell him." Yes, +Oliver had been there with his other sisters in the morning: they had +not forgotten, but they hoped that dear Olympia's steps would not wander +round by that way. + +However, my lady made no further sign except by her unwonted silence. +She left the Villa Giulia the following day with all her party, her last +words to Elizabeth being, "You will let me know when you are coming to +England, and I will be at Fairfield. I would not miss seeing you: it +seems to me that we belong to one another in some fashion. Good-bye." + +Bessie went back to Harry over his work rather saddened. "I do love Lady +Latimer, Harry--her very faults and her foibles," she said. "I must have +it by inheritance." + +"If you had expressed a wish, perhaps she would not have gone so +suddenly. She appears to have no object in life but to serve other +people even while she rules them. Don't look so melancholy: she is not +unhappy--she is not to be pitied." + +"Oh, Harry! Not unhappy, and so lonely!" + +"My dear child, all the world is lonely more or less--she more, we less. +But doing all the good she can--and so much good--she must have many +hours of pure and high satisfaction. I am glad we have met." + +And Bessie was glad. These chance meetings so far away gave her sweet +intervals of reverie about friends at home. She kept her tender heart +for them, but had never a regret that she had left them all for Harry +Musgrave's sake. She sat musing with lovely pensive face. Harry looked +up from his work again. The sky was heavenly serene, there was a cool +air stirring, and slow moving shadows of cloud were upon the lake. + +"I am tired of these songs just now," said Harry, rising and stepping +over to the window where his wife sat. "This is a day to find out +something new: let us go down the garden to the landing and take a boat. +We will ask for a roll or two of bread and some wine, and we can stay as +late as we please." + +Bessie came out of her dream and did his bidding with a grace. And that +was the day's diversion. + +THE END. + + + + +ADVERTISEMENTS. + + +Standard and Popular Books + +PUBLISHED BY + +Porter & Coates, Philadelphia Pa. + + +WAVERLEY NOVELS. By SIR WALTER SCOTT. + + +*Waverley. +*Guy Mannering. +The Antiquary. +Rob Roy. +Black Dwarf; and Old Mortality. +The Heart of Mid-Lothian. +The Bride of Lammermoor; and A +Legend of Montrose. +*Ivanhoe. +The Monastery. +The Abbott. +Kenilworth. +The Pirate. +The Fortunes of Nigel. +Peveril of the Peak. +Quentin Durward. +St. Ronan's Well. +Redgauntlet. +The Betrothed; and The Talisman. +Woodstock. +The Fair Maid of Perth. +Anne of Geierstein. +Count Robert of Paris; and Castle +Dangerous. +Chronicles of the Canongate. + + +Household Edition. 23 vols. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, per vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50; half calf, +gilt, marbled edges, per vol., $3.00. Sold separately in cloth binding +only. + +Universe Edition. 25 vols. Printed on thin paper, and containing one +illustration to the volume. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per +vol., 75 cts. + +World Edition. 12 vols. Thick 12mo. (Sold in sets only.) Cloth, extra, +black and gold, $18.00; half imt. Russia, marbled edges, $24.00. + +This is the best edition for the library or for general use published. +Its convenient size, the extreme legibility of the type, which is larger +than is used in any other 12mo. edition, either English or American. + +TALES OF A GRANDFATHER. By SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 4 vols. Uniform with +the Waverley Novels. + +Household Edition. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per +vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50; half calf, gilt, +marbled edges, per vol., $3.00. + +This edition contains the Fourth Series--Tales from French history--and +is the only complete edition published in this country. + +CHARLES DICKENS' COMPLETE WORKS. Author's Edition. 14 vols., with a +portrait of the author on steel, and eight illustrations by F.O.C. +Darley, Cruikshank, Fildes, Eytinge, and others, in each volume. 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per vol., $1.00; sheep, marbled edges, per +vol., $1.50; half imt. Russia, marbled edges, per vol., $1.50: half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, per vol., $2.75. + + +*Pickwick Papers. +*Oliver Twist, Pictures of Italy, and American Notes. +*Nicholas Nickleby. +Old Curiosity Shop, and Reprinted Pieces. +Barnaby Rudge, and Hard Times. +*Martin Chuzzlewit. +Dombey and Son. +*David Copperfield. +Christmas Books, Uncommercial Traveller, and Additional Christmas Stories. +Bleak House. +Little Dorrit. +Tale of Two Cities, and Great Expectations. +Our Mutual Friend. +Edwin Drood, Sketches, Master Humphrey's Clock, etc., etc. + + +Sold separately in cloth binding only. + +*Also in Alta Edition, one illustration, 75 cents. + +The same. Universe Edition. Printed on thin paper and containing one +illustration to the volume. 14 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, per vol., 75 cents. + +The same. World Edition. 7 vols., thick 12mo., $12.25. (Sold in sets +only.) + +CHILD'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By CHARLES DICKENS. Popular 12mo. edition; +from new electrotype plates. Large clear type. Beautifully illustrated +with 8 engravings on wood. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00. + +Alta Edition. One illustration, 75 cents. + + "Dickens as a novelist and prose poet is to be classed in the front + rank of the noble company to which he belongs. He has revived the + novel of genuine practical life, as it existed in the works of + Fielding, Smollett, and Goldsmith; but at the same time has given + to his material an individual coloring and expression peculiarly + his own. His characters, like those of his great exemplars, + constitute a world of their own, whose truth to nature every reader + instinctively recognizes in connection with their truth to + darkness."--_E.P. Whipple_. + +MACAULAY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the accession of James II. By THOMAS +BABINGTON MACAULAY. With a steel portrait of the author. Printed from +new electrotype plates from the last English Edition. Being by far the +most correct edition in the American market. 5 volumes, 12mo. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, marbled edges, per set, +$7.50; half imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, per +set, $15.00. + +Popular Edition. 5 vols., cloth, plain, $5.00. + +8vo. Edition. 5 volumes in one, with portrait. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $3.00; sheep, marbled edges, $3.50. + +MARTINEAU'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the beginning of the 19th Century +to the Crimean War. By HARRIET MARTINEAU. Complete in 4 vols., with full +Index. Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.00; sheep, marbled +edges, $6.00; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $12.00. + +HUME'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. From the invasion of Julius Caesar to the +abdication of James II, 1688. By DAVID HUME. Standard Edition. With the +author's last corrections and improvements; to which is prefixed a short +account of his life, written by himself. With a portrait on steel. A new +edition from entirely new stereotype plates. 5 vols., 12mo. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, marbled edges, per set, +$7.50; half imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, per +set, $15.00. + +Popular Edition. 5 vols. Cloth, plain, $5.00. + +GIBBON'S DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE. By EDWARD GIBBON. With +Notes, by Rev. H.H. MILMAN. Standard Edition. To which is added a +complete Index of the work. A new edition from entirely new stereotype +plates. With portrait on steel. 5 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, per set, $5.00; sheep, marbled edges, per set, $7.50; half +imitation Russia, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, per set, +$15.00. + +Popular Edition. 5 vols. Cloth, plain, $5.00. + +ENGLAND, PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. By JOEL COOK, author of "A Holiday +Tour in Europe," etc. With 487 finely engraved illustrations, +descriptive of the most famous and attractive places, as well as of the +historic scenes and rural life of England and Wales. With Mr. Cook's +admirable descriptions of the places and the country, and the splendid +illustrations, this is the most valuable and attractive book of the +season, and the sale will doubtless be very large. 4to. Cloth, extra, +gilt side and edges, $7.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $10.00; half +morocco, full gilt edges, $10.00; full Turkey morocco, gilt edges, +$15.00; tree calf, gilt edges, $18.00. + + This work, which is prepared in elegant style, and profusely + illustrated, is a comprehensive description of England and Wales, + arranged in convenient form for the tourist, and at the same time + providing an illustrated guide-book to a country which Americans + always view with interest. There are few satisfactory works about + this land which is so generously gifted by Nature and so full of + memorials of the past. Such books as there are, either cover a few + counties or are devoted to special localities, or are merely + guide-books. The present work is believed to be the first attempt + to give in attractive form a description of the stately homes, + renowned castles, ivy-clad ruins of abbeys, churches, and ancient + fortresses, delicious scenery, rock-bound coasts, and celebrated + places of England and Wales. It is written by an author fully + competent from travel and reading, and in position to properly + describe his very interesting subject; and the artist's pencil has + been called into requisition to graphically illustrate its + well-written pages. There are 487 illustrations, prepared in the + highest style of the engraver's art, while the book itself is one + of the most attractive ever presented to the American public. + + Its method of construction is systematic, following the most + convenient routes taken by tourists, and the letter-press includes + enough of the history and legend of each of the places described to + make the story highly interesting. Its pages fairly overflow with + picture and description, telling of everything attractive that is + presented by England and Wales. Executed in the highest style of + the printer's and engraver's art, "England, Picturesque and + Descriptive," is one of the best American books of the year. + +HISTORY OF THE CIVIL WAR IN AMERICA. By the COMTE DE PARIS. With Maps +faithfully Engraved from the Originals, and Printed in Three Colors. +8vo. Cloth, per volume, $3.50; red cloth, extra, Roxburgh style, uncut +edges, $3.50; sheep, library style, $4.50; half Turkey morocco, $6.00. +Vols. I, II, and III now ready. + + The third volume embraces, without abridgment, the fifth and sixth + volumes of the French edition, and covers one of the most + interesting as well as the most anxious periods of the war, + describing the operations of the Army of the Potomac in the East, + and the Army of the Cumberland and Tennessee in the West. + + It contains full accounts of the battle of Chancellorsville, the + attack of the monitors on Fort Sumter, the sieges and fall of + Vicksburg and Port Hudson; the battles of Port Gibson and + Champion's Hill, and the fullest and most authentic account of the + battle of Gettysburg ever written. + + "The head of the Orleans family has put pen to paper with excellent + result.... Our present impression is that it will form by far the + best history of the American war."--_Athenaeum, London_. + + "We advise all Americans to read it carefully, and judge for + themselves if 'the future historian of our war,' of whom we have + heard so much, be not already arrived in the Comte de + Paris."--_Nation, New York_. + + "This is incomparably the best account of our great second + revolution that has yet been even attempted. It is so calm, so + dispassionate, so accurate in detail, and at the same time so + philosophical in general, that its reader counts confidently on + finding the complete work thoroughly satisfactory."--_Evening + Bulletin, Philadelphia_. + + "The work expresses the calm, deliberate judgment of an experienced + military observer and a highly intelligent man. Many of its + statements will excite discussion, but we much mistake if it does + not take high and permanent rank among the standard histories of + the civil war. Indeed that place has been assigned it by the most + competent critics both of this country and abroad."--_Times, + Cincinnati_. + + "Messrs. Porter & Coates, of Philadelphia, will publish in a few + days the authorized translation of the new volume of the Comte de + Paris' History of Our Civil War. The two volumes in French--the + fifth and sixth--are bound together in the translation in one + volume. Our readers already know, through a table of contents of + these volumes, published in the cable columns of the _Herald_, the + period covered by this new installment of a work remarkable in + several ways. It includes the most important and decisive period of + the war, and the two great campaigns of Gettysburg and Vicksburg. + + "The great civil war has had no better, no abler historian than the + French prince who, emulating the example of Lafayette, took part in + this new struggle for freedom, and who now writes of events, in + many of which he participated, as an accomplished officer, and one + who, by his independent position, his high character and eminent + talents, was placed in circumstances and relations which gave him + almost unequalled opportunities to gain correct information and + form impartial judgments. + + "The new installment of a work which has already become a classic + will be read with increased interest by Americans because of the + importance of the period it covers and the stirring events it + describes. In advance of a careful review we present to-day some + extracts from the advance sheets sent us by Messrs. Porter & + Coates, which will give our readers a foretaste of chapters which + bring back to memory so many half-forgotten and not a few hitherto + unvalued details of a time which Americans of this generation at + least cannot read of without a fresh thrill of excitement." + +HALF-HOURS WITH THE BEST AUTHORS. With short Biographical and Critical +Notes. By CHARLES KNIGHT. + +New Household Edition. With six portraits on steel. 3 vols., thick 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.50; half imt. Russia, marbled +edges, $6.00; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $12.00. + +Library Edition. Printed on fine laid and tinted paper. With twenty-four +portraits on steel. 6 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, per set, $7.50; half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, per set, $18.00; half Russia, gilt top, +$21.00; full French morocco, limp, per set, $12.00; full smooth Russia, +limp, round corners, in Russia case, per set, $25.00; full seal grained +Russia, limp, round corners, in Russia case to match, $25.00. + + The excellent idea of the editor of these choice volumes has been + most admirably carried out, as will be seen by the list of authors + upon all subjects. Selecting some choice passages of the best + standard authors, each of sufficient length to occupy half an hour + in its perusal, there is here food for thought for every day in the + year: so that if the purchaser will devote but one-half hour each + day to its appropriate selection he will read through these six + volumes in one year, and in such a leisurely manner that the + noblest thoughts of many of the greatest minds will be firmly in + his mind forever. For every Sunday there is a suitable selection + from some of the most eminent writers in sacred literature. We + venture to say if the editor's idea is carried out the reader will + possess more and better knowledge of the English classics at the + end of the year than he would by five years of desultory reading. + + They can be commenced at any day in the year. The variety of + reading is so great that no one will ever tire of these volumes. It + is a library in itself. + +THE POETRY OF OTHER LANDS. A Collection of Translations into English +Verse of the Poetry of Other Languages, Ancient and Modern. Compiled by +N. CLEMMONS HUNT. Containing translations from the Greek, Latin, +Persian, Arabian, Japanese, Turkish, Servian, Russian, Bohemian, Polish, +Dutch, German, Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese languages. 12mo. +Cloth, extra, gilt edges, $2.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $4.00; +Turkey morocco, gilt edges, $6.00. + + "Another of the publications of Porter & Coates, called 'The Poetry + of Other Lands,' compiled by N. Clemmons Hunt, we most warmly + commend. It is one of the best collections we have seen, containing + many exquisite poems and fragments of verse which have not before + been put into book form in English words. We find many of the old + favorites, which appear in every well-selected collection of + sonnets and songs, and we miss others, which seem a necessity to + complete the bouquet of grasses and flowers, some of which, from + time to time, we hope to republish in the 'Courier.'"--_Cincinnati + Courier_. + + "A book of rare excellence, because it gives a collection of choice + gems in many languages not available to the general lover of + poetry. It contains translations from the Greek, Latin, Persian, + Arabian, Japanese, Turkish, Servian, Russian, Bohemian, Polish, + Dutch, German, Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese languages. + The book will be an admirable companion volume to any one of the + collections of English poetry that are now published. With the full + index of authors immediately preceding the collection, and the + arrangement of the poems under headings, the reader will find it + convenient for reference. It is a gift that will be more valued by + very many than some of the transitory ones at these holiday + times."--_Philadelphia Methodist_. + +THE FIRESIDE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF POETRY. Edited by HENRY T. COATES. This is +the latest, and beyond doubt the best collection of poetry published. +Printed on fine paper and illustrated with thirteen steel engravings and +fifteen title pages, containing portraits of prominent American poets +and fac-similes of their handwriting, made expressly for this book. 8vo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, gilt edges, $5.00; half calf, gilt, +marbled edges, $7.50; half morocco, full gilt edges, $7.50; full Turkey +morocco, gilt edges, $10.00; tree calf, gilt edges, $12.00; plush, +padded side, nickel lettering, $14.00. + + "The editor shows a wide acquaintance with the most precious + treasures of English verse, and has gathered the most admirable + specimens of their ample wealth. Many pieces which have been passed + by in previous collections hold a place of honor in the present + volume, and will be heartily welcomed by the lovers of poetry as a + delightful addition to their sources of enjoyment. It is a volume + rich in solace, in entertainment, in inspiration, of which the + possession may well be coveted by every lover of poetry. The + pictorial illustrations of the work are in keeping with its + poetical contents, and the beauty of the typographical execution + entitles it to a place among the choicest ornaments of the + library."--_New York Tribune_. + + "Lovers of good poetry will find this one of the richest + collections ever made. All the best singers in our language are + represented, and the selections are generally those which reveal + their highest qualities.... The lights and shades, the finer play + of thought and imagination belonging to individual authors, are + brought out in this way (by the arrangement of poems under + subject-headings) as they would not be under any other system.... + We are deeply impressed with the keen appreciation of poetical + worth, and also with the good taste manifested by the + compiler."--_Churchman_. + + "Cyclopaedias of poetry are numerous, but for sterling value of its + contents for the library, or as a book of reference, no work of the + kind will compare with this admirable volume of Mr. Coates. It + takes the gems from many volumes, culling with rare skill and + judgment."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean_. + +THE CHILDREN'S BOOK OF POETRY. Compiled by HENRY T. COATES. Containing +over 500 poems carefully selected from the works of the best and most +popular writers for children; with nearly 200 illustrations. The most +complete collection of poetry for children ever published. 4to. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, gilt side and edges, $3.00; full Turkey morocco, +gilt edges, $7.50. + + "This seems to us the best book of poetry for children in + existence. We have examined many other collections, but we cannot + name another that deserves to be compared with this admirable + compilation."--_Worcester Spy_. + + "The special value of the book lies in the fact that it nearly or + quite covers the entire field. There is not a great deal of good + poetry which has been written for children that cannot be found in + this book. The collection is particularly strong in ballads and + tales, which are apt to interest children more than poems of other + kinds; and Mr. Coates has shown good judgment in supplementing this + department with some of the best poems of that class that have been + written for grown people. A surer method of forming the taste of + children for good and pure literature than by reading to them from + any portion of this book can hardly be imagined. The volume is + richly illustrated and beautifully bound."--_Philadelphia Evening + Bulletin_. + + "A more excellent volume cannot be found. We have found within the + covers of this handsome volume, and upon its fair pages, many of + the most exquisite poems which our language contains. It must + become a standard volume, and can never grow old or + obsolete."--_Episcopal Recorder_. + +THE COMPLETE WORKS OF THOS. HOOD. With engravings on steel. 4 vols., +12mo., tinted paper. Poetical Works; Up the Rhine; Miscellanies and +Hood's Own; Whimsicalities, Whims, and Oddities. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $6.00; red cloth, paper label, gilt top, uncut edges, $6.00; half +calf, gilt, marbled edges, $14.00; half Russia, gilt top, $18.00. + + Hood's verse, whether serious or comic--whether serene like a + cloudless autumn evening or sparkling with puns like a frosty + January midnight with stars--was ever pregnant with materials for + the thought. Like every author distinguished for true comic humor, + there was a deep vein of melancholy pathos running through his + mirth, and even when his sun shone brightly its light seemed often + reflected as if only over the rim of a cloud. + + Well may we say, in the words of Tennyson, "Would he could have + stayed with us," for never could it be more truly recorded of any + one--in the words of Hamlet characterizing Yorick--that "he was a + fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." D.M. Moir. + +THE ILIAD OF HOMER RENDERED INTO ENGLISH BLANK VERSE. By EDWARD, EARL OF +DERBY. From the latest London edition, with all the author's last +revisions and corrections, and with a Biographical Sketch of Lord Derby, +by R. SHELTON MACKENZIE, D.C.L. With twelve steel engravings from +Flaxman's celebrated designs. 2 vols., 12mo. Cloth, extra, bev. boards, +gilt top, $3.50; half calf, gilt, marbled edges, $7.00; half Turkey +morocco, gilt top, $7.00. + +The same. Popular edition. Two vols. in one. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.50. + + "It must equally be considered a splendid performance; and for the + present we have no hesitation in saying that it is by far the best + representation of Homer's Iliad in the English language."--_London + Times_. + + "The merits of Lord Derby's translation may be summed up in one + word, it is eminently attractive; it is instinct with life; it may + be read with fervent interest; it is immeasurably nearer than Pope + to the text of the original.... Lord Derby has given a version far + more closely allied to the original, and superior to any that has + yet been attempted in the blank verse of our language."--_Edinburg + Review_. + +THE WORKS OF FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS. Comprising the Antiquities of the Jews; a +History of the Jewish Wars, and a Life of Flavius Josephus, written by +himself. Translated from the original Greek, by WILLIAM WHISTON, A.M. +Together with numerous explanatory Notes and seven Dissertations +concerning Jesus Christ, John the Baptist, James the Just, God's command +to Abraham, etc., with an Introductory Essay by REV. H. STEBBING, D.D. +8vo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, plain edges, $3.00; cloth, red, black +and gold, gilt edges, $4.50; sheep, marbled edges, $3.50; Turkey +morocco, gilt edges, $8.00. + +This is the largest type one volume edition published. + +THE ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE EGYPTIANS, CARTHAGINIANS, ASSYRIANS, +BABYLONIANS, MEDES AND PERSIANS, GRECIANS AND MACEDONIANS Including a +History of the Arts and Sciences of the Ancients. By CHARLES ROLLIN. +With a Life of the Author, by JAMES BELL. 2 vols., royal 8vo. Sheep, +marbled edges, per set, $6.00. + +COOKERY FROM EXPERIENCE. A Practical Guide for Housekeepers in the +Preparation of Every-day Meals, containing more than One Thousand +Domestic Recipes, mostly tested by Personal Experience, with Suggestions +for Meals, Lists of Meats and Vegetables in Season, etc. By Mrs. SARA T. +PAUL. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. + +Interleaved Edition. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.75. + +THE COMPARATIVE EDITION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. + +Both Versions in One Book. + +The proof readings of our Comparative Edition have been gone over by so +many competent proof readers, that we believe the text is absolutely +correct. + +Large 12mo., 700 pp. Cloth, extra, plain edges, $1.50; cloth, extra, +bevelled boards and carmine edges, $1.75; imitation panelled calf, +yellow edges, $2.00; arabesque, gilt edges, $2.50; French morocco, limp, +gilt edges, $4.00; Turkey morocco, limp, gilt edges, $6.00. + + The Comparative New Testament has been published by Porter & + Coates. In parallel columns on each page are given the old and new + versions of the Testament, divided also as far us practicable into + comparative verses, so that it is almost impossible for the + slightest new word to escape the notice of either the ordinary + reader or the analytical student. It is decidedly the best edition + yet published of the most interest-exciting literary production of + the day. No more convenient form for comparison could be devised + either for economizing time or labor. Another feature is the + foot-notes, and there is also given in an appendix the various + words and expressions preferred by the American members of the + Revising Commission. The work is handsomely printed on excellent + paper with clear, legible type. It contains nearly 700 pages. + +THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Complete in one volume, +with two illustrations by George G. White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $1.25. + +THE THREE GUARDSMEN. By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Complete in one volume, with +two illustrations by George G. White. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and +gold, $1.25. + + There is a magic influence in his pen, a magnetic attraction in his + descriptions, a fertility in his literary resources which are + characteristic of Dumas alone, and the seal of the master of light + literature is set upon all his works. Even when not strictly + historical, his romances give an insight into the habits and modes + of thought and action of the people of the time described, which + are not offered in any other author's productions. + +THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. By SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, Bart. +Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.00. Alta edition, +one illustration, 75 cts. + +JANE EYRE. By CHARLOTTE BRONTE (Currer Bell). New Library Edition. With +five illustrations by E.M. WIMPERIS. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.00. + +SHIRLEY. By CHARLOTTE BRONTE (Currer Bell). New Library Edition. With +five illustrations by E.M. WIMPERIS. 12mo, Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.00. + +VILLETTE. By CHARLOTTE BRONTE (Currer Bell). New Library Edition. With +five illustrations by E.M. WIMPERIS. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.00. + +THE PROFESSOR, EMMA and POEMS. By CHARLOTTE BRONTE (Currer Bell). New +Library Edition. With five illustrations by E.M. Wimperis. 12mo. Cloth, +extra, black and gold, $1.00. + +Cloth, extra, black and gold, per set, $4.00; red cloth, paper label, +gilt top, uncut edges, per set, $5.00; half calf, gilt, per set, $12.00. +The four volumes forming the complete works of Charlotte Bronte (Currer +Bell). + + The wondrous power of Currer Bell's stories consists in their fiery + insight into the human heart, their merciless dissection of + passion, and their stern analysis of character and motive. The + style of these productions possesses incredible force, sometimes + almost grim in its bare severity, then relapsing into passages of + melting pathos--always direct, natural, and effective in its + unpretending strength. They exhibit the identity which always + belongs to works of genius by the same author, though without the + slightest approach to monotony. The characters portrayed by Currer + Bell all have a strongly marked individuality. Once brought before + the imagination, they haunt the memory like a strange dream. The + sinewy, muscular strength of her writings guarantees their + permanent duration, and thus far they have lost nothing of their + intensity of interest since the period of their composition. + +CAPTAIN JACK THE SCOUT; or, The Indian Wars about Old Fort Duquesne. An +Historical Novel, with copious notes. By CHARLES MCKNIGHT. Illustrated +with eight engravings. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. + + A work of such rare merit and thrilling interest as to have been + republished both in England and Germany. This genuine American + historical work has been received with extraordinary popular favor, + and has "won golden opinions from all sorts of people" for its + freshness, its forest life, and its fidelity to truth. In many + instances it even corrects History and uses the drapery of fiction + simply to enliven and illustrate the fact. + + It is a universal favorite with both sexes, and with all ages and + conditions, and is not only proving a marked and notable success in + this country, but has been eagerly taken up abroad and republished + in London, England, and issued in two volumes in the far-famed + "Tauchnitz Edition" of Leipsic, Germany. + +ORANGE BLOSSOMS, FRESH AND FADED. By T.S. ARTHUR. Illustrated. 12mo. +Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. + + "Orange Blossoms" contains a number of short stories of society. + Like all of Mr. Arthur's works, it has a special moral purpose, and + is especially addressed to the young who have just entered the + marital experience, whom it pleasantly warns against those social + and moral pitfalls into which they may almost innocently plunge. + +THE BAR ROOMS AT BRANTLEY; or, The Great Hotel Speculation. By T.S. +ARTHUR. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.50. + + "One of the best temperance stories recently issued."--_N.Y. + Commercial Advertiser_. + + "Although it is in the form of a novel, its truthful delineation of + characters is such that in every village in the land you meet the + broken manhood it pictures upon the streets, and look upon sad, + tear-dimmed eyes of women and children. The characters are not + overdrawn, but are as truthful as an artist's pencil could make + them."--_Inter-Ocean, Chicago_. + +EMMA. By JANE AUSTEN. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth extra $1.25. + +MANSFIELD PARK. By JANE AUSTEN. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. + +PRIDE AND PREJUDICE; and Northanger Abbey. By JANE AUSTEN. Illustrated. +12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. + +SENSE AND SENSIBILITY; and Persuasion. By JANE AUSTEN. Illustrated. +12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.25. + +The four volumes, forming the complete works of Jane Austen, in a neat +box: Cloth, extra, per set, $5.00; red cloth, paper label gilt top, +uncut edges, $5.00; half calf, gilt, per set, $12.00. + + "Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. In her + novels she has given us a multitude of characters, all, in a + certain sense, common-place, all such as we meet every day. Yet + they are all as perfectly discriminated from each other as if they + were the most eccentric of human beings.... And almost all this is + done by touches so delicate that they elude analysis, that they + defy the powers of description, and that we know them to exist only + by the general effect to which they have contributed."--_Macaulay's + Essays_. + +ART AT HOME. Containing in one volume House Decoration, by RHODA and +AGNES GARRETT; Plea for Art in the House, by W.J. LOFTIE; Music, by JOHN +HULLAH; and Dress, by Mrs. OLIPHANT. 12mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold, +$1.50. + +TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS AT RUGBY. By THOMAS HUGHES. New Edition, large +clear type. With 30 illustrations after Caldecott and others. 12mo., 400 +pp. Cloth, extra, black and gold, $1.25; half calf, gilt, $2.75. + +Alta Edition. One illustration, 75 cents. + + "It is difficult to estimate the amount of good which may be done + by 'Tom Brown's School Days.' It gives, in the main, a most + faithful and interesting picture of our public schools, the most + English institutions of England, and which educate the best and + most powerful elements in our upper classes. But it is more than + this; it is an attempt, a very noble and successful attempt, to + Christianize the society of our youth, through the only practicable + channel--hearty and brotherly sympathy with their feelings; a book, + in short, which a father might well wish to see in the hands of his + son."--_London Times_. + +TOM BROWN AT OXFORD. By THOMAS HUGHES. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, extra, +black and gold, $1.50; half calf, gilt, $3.00. + + "Fairly entitled to the rank and dignity of an English classic. + Plot, style and truthfulness are of the soundest British character. + Racy, idiomatic, mirror-like, always interesting, suggesting + thought on the knottiest social and religious questions, now deeply + moving by its unconscious pathos, and anon inspiring uproarious + laughter, it is a work the world will not willingly let + die."--_N.Y. Christian Advocate_. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vicissitudes of Bessie Fairfax +by Harriet Parr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VICISSITUDES OF BESSIE FAIRFAX *** + +***** This file should be named 17086.txt or 17086.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/0/8/17086/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/17086.zip b/17086.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ccb2712 --- /dev/null +++ b/17086.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..425cd65 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #17086 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17086) |